


White Collar: White Rabbit

by Phoenix_crysg1



Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 74,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_crysg1/pseuds/Phoenix_crysg1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter is kidnapped by parties unknown Neal is forced to cut his anklet and head out on a directed crime spree to keep Peter alive. On the run from the FBI, cops and the US Marshals Neal has to keep a step ahead of everyone while trying to piece together who took Peter and what it is they really want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that was prompted by a Live Journal photo/art by Kanarek13 and can be seen here: http://kanarek13.livejournal.com/71689.html

White Rabbit

Chapter One

"What..."

Waking up disoriented Peter tried to think past the throbbing headache that was assaulting his senses. Laying on his back on a hard surface he fluttered his eyes open only to be greeted by a harsh blinding light. Closing his eyes once more Peter tried to piece together what the last thing he remembered was. As the memory flooded back to him a wash of hot adrenaline jolted him fully awake. Sitting bolt upright he scrambled back only to quickly find himself boxed into a corner.

With his heart slamming against his ribs Peter looked around at his new surroundings. Dull silver colored metal surrounded him closely on all sides. He quickly estimated that the space couldn't be more than six feet wide by nine feet long with probably only five and half feet from the floor to the ceiling which held two powerful recessed lights that were protected by thick glass. It was the low ceiling more than anything that made the space crush in on him as he worked to ignore the an icy stab of fear from finding himself in the tight space.

The box like room was almost featureless with a few exceptions. There was a grate about one foot square set into the wall in the upper far right corner, the corner to the left of the grate was blocked off by a small mirror that Peter assumed was one way and held a camera behind it. It took a close inspection of the wall at his back to find the seam where the door was.

Peter though back on this morning as he tried to recall exactly what had happened. He had just gotten out of his car in the underground parking lot at work. It had been early and there were only a few scattered cars on the level where he parked. Feeling secure in the Federal Building he hadn't been expecting an attack. Grabbed from behind someone had pressed a wet sweet smelling cloth against his face. He hadn't been able to free himself before needing to take a breath, when he did the world almost instantly went to black.

"Great, just great." Peter growled.

Falling back on his training at Quanitco on what to do when captured Peter took an inventory of everything he had. Reaching into his jacket and pants pockets he found them all empty, they had taken his phone, wallet, keys, badge, cuffs, and even the spare change from when he'd stopped to buy coffee before work. He still had his shoulder harness, but it was missing his weapon and spare clips. For what it was worth they had left him with his shoes, belt, tie, and wedding ring. He didn't have an immediate plan for any of the items, but it helped him focus to take stock.

Exploring the cage Peter knocked on all of the walls. The far wall and right hand wall sounded solid and were probably against the main walls of whatever building the container was in. The back wall with the door and the left wall rang more hollow when knocked on. Although he doubted that anyone who could hear him would help Peter pounded on the left wall a few times just in case there was a good Samaritan with in ear shot. After getting no response Peter pressed his ear against the seam where the door was to try and hear what was going on. The only sound that he could detect was a mechanical hum that got louder when the air suddenly kicked on. Peter was grateful for the ventilation because he had started to feel the air in the sealed box getting a little thick.

"At least they aren't trying to suffocate me."

The idea that his captors wanted to keep him alive was somewhat comforting. As long as he could still breathe there was always chance of escape. Focusing on the flush seam of the door Peter decided that it must swing out since there were no hinges on the inside. Hoping that it had a weak latch Peter threw his shoulder into the door. On the fifth attempt to break the door Peter decided that he was more likely to break his shoulder than the sturdy door. With each strike he could hear the padlock on the outside clink against the metal door.

Sitting back Peter just stared at the door for a moment while he tried to come up with a different plan. Suddenly worrying that he might not be the only one that had been taken Peter returned to the more hollow sounding wall. It might not be an outer wall, it could be aligned with a similar cell. If someone was trapped on the far side they may have been too fearful to respond to the pounding that Peter had tried first.

"Neal?" Peter called loudly. "Neal?"

Peter put his ear against the wall once more and held his breath to help him hear. Again the only sound was the hum of the air compressor. Concentrating harder Peter tried to detect anything else. There were no sirens, no traffic noises, no sound of water, just the constant industrial humming. Peter sat back again and wrapped his arms around his sour stomach. He told himself that the pain in his stomach was an after effect of the drugs that had been used on him and not fear. Fear was pointless right now and would only make the hours to come more difficult. Finding his courage Peter managed to relax and concentrated on finding a new plan even though his options were limited at this point.

Peter had been so focused on his confinement that he hadn't even noticed how cold it was getting until his breath swirled away from him in a translucent white haze. Turning his attention back to the small grate in the upper corner he watched a small strip of orange cloth that had been tied to it flap in the artificial Arctic breeze. It didn't take more than a few minutes for Peter's skin to prickle as it reacted to the cold. His light weight blazer wasn't offering much protection and he knew he would be shivering uncontrollably within the hour if he didn't do something. Activity would help, but it wouldn't be easy in the small space, plus there was a fine line between keeping warm and making things worse by sweating.

Getting to his feet Peter hunched over to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling. Going over to the grate he spent a moment trying to remove the mesh cover. If he could open the air conditioning shaft he could stuff his jacket into it and slow down the draft. The grate was securely in place and Peter had nothing to use as a tool for leverage or to undo the screws with. With his fingers becoming numb from prying at the cold metal Peter's hand slipped and he sliced his palm open on the sharp edge of the grate.

Jerking back Peter struck his the back of his head on the low ceiling of the metal container. Swearing under his visible breath Peter backed into the far corner away from the cold wind. He knelt down so that he didn't have to keep his shoulders and neck bent. He didn't dare sit down on the metal floor, he needed to minimize his contact with the cold solid surface since it would drain his heat ten times faster than the air would.

Pressing his bleeding hand against his jacket sleeve to slow down the flow Peter worked to suppress the feeling of claustrophobia that was threatening to tie more knots in his stomach. Closing his eyes he momentarily shut out the walls that surrounded him. He needed to stay calm if he was going to survive. Taking a deep breath Peter opened his eyes. Looking around again a chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the fast dropping temperature in the small space. Someone had written something in oil on the wall and as the metal surface frosted over the lettering became clear.  
 _  
'You know what I want, Caffrey.'_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Ugh...it is miserable in here."

Laying in bed with all the covers thrown off Neal panted in the heat. It was a record breaking summer in New York and even in the minutes just before dawn it was already pushing ninety-five degrees. There was even a chance that before the week ended that the city might break its all time record high of 107 degrees that was set back in 1966. Neal's apartment didn't have air conditioning, but before today it had never really been an issue. Now it was bordering on unbearable. He had a fan running on his night stand but it was doing very little to keep his cotton shirt from sticking to his skin.

Giving up on sleep Neal peeled himself off the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. He had barely gotten any sleep due to the heat. June had actually left New York and headed North to stay with friends to escape. There had already been three deaths reported that had been blamed on the extreme weather. Neal briefly wondered if there was a good hotel within his two mile radius that had AC and a spare room that he could spend the rest of the week in. At this point he'd be willing to pay just about any price for some comfort.

Getting to his feet Neal went directly into the bathroom and crawled out of his sweat soaked pajamas. Stepping into the shower he let the water run on full cold. Even without any of the hot water turned on Neal still felt like he was showering in soup. Not feeling particularly refreshed Neal turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Going out into the large closet he was not looking forward to putting on a suit.

"The office will be air conditioned," Neal told himself "maybe Peter will let me sleep there."

After two years of working together Neal was starting to truly feel comfortable with their arrangement. He even found himself looking forward to going into work, and not just because of the cool air temperatures to be found there. Although they had only worked together for a relatively short period of time Neal had long considered there relationship to have started years ago when Peter was still chasing after him. Neal hadn't just sent flowers and birthday cards to taunt Peter, there had been a honest mutual respect between them. At least Neal assumed Peter had respected him in return.

"Although if I'm being honest I never thought he'd actually catch me." Neal smiled to himself. "C'est la vie."

Picking out the lightest weight suit that he owned and forgoing any kind of vest Neal got dressed and finished the outfit with a silver colored tie. Wanting to make it to work before he ruined his shirt with sweat Neal headed directly out. He left his hat on the kitchen table, not being interested in adding anything else to his wardrobe at the moment.

Neal usually walked to the Federal Building but today he ducked down into the subway system. His anklet was itching like crazy from where the thick black plastic band was trapping extra heat and sweat against his skin. Not about to scratch at it and reveal the fact that he was wearing it in a public space he just did his best to ignore it. Along the way the subway was delayed for about twenty minutes by a breakdown somewhere along the line. Neal called Peter's cell to let him know he was running late but it just went to voice mail. Thinking nothing of not getting an answer Neal just left a message. Finally getting to the Federal Building Neal stepped into the cool air and paused for a moment to enjoy it.

"Heavenly." Neal sighed in relief.

Feeling better Neal walked over to elevator and headed up to the White Collar floor. Getting to the glass doors that lead into the office Neal was surprised to see a flurry of unusual activity. There were more than a dozen people crowed into the conference room that was at the top of the stairs and the table was covered in a variety of technical equipment. Hurrying over to the stairs that lead up to the conference room Neal didn't hesitate to open the glass door and join the others.

"What's going on?" Neal asked concerned.

Hughes looked up at Neal with a stressed expression pulled across his face. "Get him out of here." He growled to Diana.

"What?" Neal took a step back from the hostility in Hughes' voice.

"I can't deal with you right now, Caffrey."

"What did I do?" Neal glanced around the room of mostly strangers. "Where's Peter?"

"Come on." Diana said gently as she guided him out of the room.

"Diana, where is Peter?" Neal repeated as she backed him into Peter's empty office.

"Neal, he's been taken."

"Taken?" Neal repeated in horror. "By who? When?"

"We are still trying to piece all of that together. It appears to be an anti-government extremist group, they've made contact but it has so far been more of a manifesto than actual demands."

Neal's heart was already racing as his stomach started to feel like there was a live eel thrashing around inside it. It didn't matter what the terrorists wanted. The FBI didn't negotiate, not under any circumstances. The kidnapers could request a glass of water in exchange for Peter's life and they wouldn't get it. They'd be lucky to get the time of day, let alone anything a terrorist group would truly want.

"Anti-government group?" Neal repeated when he recovered somewhat from the initial shock of the news. "I don't understand. Why did they target Peter?"

"It would appear to be a case of wrong place, wrong time. They drugged three other employees in the parking garage early this morning, all of which were found unharmed. Peter was probably the fourth attack and when they found a badge on him they took him."

"They just wanted an Agent? Any Agent?"

"That's the current theory." Diana replied, sounding like she didn't quite believe it herself. "Neal, you need to go home right now."

"What? No. Absolutely not. I can help."

"You are not trained for this, you're just..."

"A con-man?" Neal provided bitterly. "Diana, it's Peter, you can't just expect me to sit at home."

"That is exactly what we expect, in fact you have half an hour to get back to your apartment before your anklet is placed on lock down. Leave your apartment and the call will go directly to the US Marshals."

"Diana, please don't do this." Neal begged desperately.

"It's not me."

"Then let me talk to Hughes. I can't jus..."

"He has enough on his mind right now. You are just going to distract him from the job at hand." Diana said firmly. "Neal, you are just going to have to trust us with this. We all want Peter back and we are going to do everything we can."

"Elizabeth..." Neal's blood ran cold.

"As I'm sure you know she is out of town, she's been told and is currently being escorted by a Colorado field Agent on the next flight home. Neal, there is nothing you can do here. Go home, you are only in the way."

Neal reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose against a sudden dizziness that assaulted him. Diana took the opportunity to push him towards the door. Neal wanted to fight being sent away, but he knew that would only end in getting taken away by a Marshal. He walked slowly down the stairs as Diana returned to the conference room. As he stepped out of the heavy glass doors into the small area that held the elevators he looked back at the frosted FBI emblem etched into the glass. Back in the conference room everyone had a part to play as they worked to retrieve their stolen Agent. Standing outside the doors looking in Neal suddenly felt very alone. As much as he wanted to be part of the White Collar team he was still an outsider.

"And I always will be."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Neal begrudgingly returned to his apartment and seconds later the green light on his anklet switched to red to warn him that he was on lock down. Neal ground his teeth together as a flash of anger washed over him. He knew that if any other Agent had been taken that Peter would have let him stay, he would have gladly accepted any extra help. Neal might not have official training in negotiations, but he certainly had a great deal of experience with them.

"At their heart negotiations are just another kind of con."

Raking his hands through his sweat drenched hair Neal tried not to let the oppressive July heat press in on him as he felt bile rising to the back of his throat. The humid air was just adding to his anxiety as it made it difficult to breathe. Trying to focus Neal tried to think of who might be behind the kidnapping, Peter's list of enemies wasn't a small one. Neal didn't buy the idea that Peter had been randomly snatched from the Federal Building underground parking, it had to be someone who knew him.

"Or who knows me..."

Neal's already sour stomach twisted at the sight on his kitchen table. There was a black shoulder bag that didn't belong to him and that certainly hadn't been there when he'd left the apartment this morning. Neal stepped over to the table he found a yellow sticky note resting on top of it that hed picked up with a shaky hand.

"'Just for you.'" Neal read out loud.

Putting down the note Neal opened up the flap on the black leather messenger bag. Inside Neal found a large digital tablet, a smart phone in a heavy waterproof case, and a small silver bluetooth ear piece. When Neal picked up the thin digital tablet the screen came to life and showed a 'play' button display icon against a black background.

With adrenaline pouring into his blood Neal wasn't sure he wanted to see the video on the tablet. Neal looked around the empty apartment, wishing that he wasn't alone. Taking a deep breath Neal tapped on the 'play' icon. He knew he should be calling the FBI, but he needed to see what was on the tablet first.

Neal had tried to prepare himself to see Peter but his breath still hissed across his teeth when the image of Peter sprawled out across a metal floor came up on the screen. It was hard to tell at first if he was looking at a video or a still picture, Peter was barely breathing. Neal stared at the image, paralyzed by it. Peter suddenly woke with a sharp gasp and backed himself into the corner with the terror of waking up in an enclosed space clearly painted across his face.

Neal was sharply reminded of the first time he had ended up in solitary. He hadn't started the fight, he hadn't even managed to finish it. In fact he'd been quickly knocked senseless by his larger opponent who had attacked him simply because he was looking for someone to take some aggression out on. He should have been taken to the infirmary, but the Warden was actively working on bringing the number of fights down and he didn't care who started what. Anyone caught fighting spent a week in solitary, no questions asked. Neal had woken in the small dark cell with no idea what was going on, where he was, or even who he was for the first few minutes. It had been terrifying and the walls had started closing in on him long before the week was through.

Peter seemed to be handling his own confinement well considering the circumstance. He explored his new prison, knocked on the walls, took stock of what he had with him. He tried the door a few times before turning his attention to the grate that was suddenly pushing air. Neal could see his lips moving as he spoke, and he could swear that he could hear him. Looking at the sleek bluetooth device Neal realized that the audio was coming through it. Neal settled the piece in his ear, looping the plastic arch that kept it in place over his ear.

"Neal?" Peter called. "Neal?"

"You're worried about me? Worry about yourself, Peter."

Neal already knew that what he was watching wasn't happening in real time. There was a digital display in the lower left corner of the screen that was running the time and held fast forward, rewind and pause features. According to the clock all of this had happened about an hour ago. A small digital display suddenly came up in the lower left of the screen with blue number that started at 60 slowly began to drop. At first Neal feared that it was some kind of timer counting down, however it was too slow to be counting seconds and too fast to be minutes. It wasn't until the digits dipped down into the lower thirties that Neal figured out what was happening. Peter had the realization at the same time as Neal as his breath turned white.

Peter got to his feet and went over to the grate and tried to pry it off. Neal jerked slightly when Peter sliced his hand on the metal and struck his head on the ceiling as he reared back. Giving up on the grate Peter moved to the center of the small room and knelt down cradling his injured hand close to his body to slow the bleeding. Neal was so focused on Peter that he didn't even notice the lettering that was becoming visible on the wall until Peter looked up at it. Following Peter's gaze Neal read the message.

"'You know what I want Caffrey'." Neal read out loud with his brow furrowed. "...I really don't."

Neal nearly jumped out of his own skin when the phone in the heavy case suddenly rang. Looking at the phone it said 'unknown' caller. Neal just watched the phone ring a few times before he realized that he needed to answer it. When he touched the screen he could hear the ear piece pick up the line.

"I trust I have your attention." A deep voice that was clearly being run through a voice modulator purred in Neal's ear.

"Who is this?" Neal demanded.

"That doesn't matter."

"I can't know what you want if I don't know who you are."

"I never really expected you to know what I want. I just put that there to give Burke something to think about, keep him from getting bored."

"You are going to have the full force of the FBI bearing down on you if you don't let him go right now!"

"The FBI is currently barking up the wrong tree listening to an exceptionally long anit-government manifesto that I downloaded off the internet. I'd also like to take this opportunity to stress to you how bad an idea it would be for you to contact anyone at the FBI. This is between you and me."

"If this is between us then come and get me, leave Peter out of it."

"This is way is more effective. It is much easier to be the one being tortured compared to being the one who has to watch."

"Don't you dare hurt him!" Neal snarled.

"You are in no position to be making demands, Caffrey. Of course you already know that. Here, I'll bring up a live feed for you."

Neal was rendered speechless as the view on the tablet in his hand changed. Peter was still kneeling in the same spot but he was shivering uncontrollably. The tips of his ear had turned white from the blood drawing away in the cold as frostnip set in, which would quickly turn to true frost bite. He looked exhausted from the hour of kneeling on the hard floor, but Neal understood why he couldn't just sit down on the frozen metal.

The display was back in the corner of the screen with the time as well as the current temperature which was at twenty degrees Fahrenheit. There was a smaller number under it next to a lable that said 'Set Point' which was at twenty when Neal first looked at it, but then rose to thirty-two. The current temperature began to rise as it moved towards the new set point.

"I control the temperature, among other things..."

Neal was still staring at the live video feed when there was a sharp crackling sound followed instantly by Peter convulsing violently. Arching back as all of his muscles snapped tight Peter only managed a strangled gasp before he fell backwards. Landing hard on his back Peter jerked in the throws of a horrific seizure as his system reacted to the high voltage shock he had just received.

"Peter!" Neal cried.

Neal's heart slammed against his ribs as he watched Peter claw at the frosty metal floor briefly before passing out. Neal doubted that Peter had been truly conscious during the convulsions, but it was still sickening to watch. Peter's only sign of life was the erratic rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to breathe. Neal could hear him gasping painfully in the ear piece and the sound of it nearly sent him into dry heaving, he ground his teeth together and managed to keep keep his stomach mostly under control.

"Ouch." The distorted voice chuckled. "That was set way too high. I'll adjust that, it's no fun if he can't even scream."

"You sick fu..."

"Temper, temper, Caffrey." Their tormentor tisked disapprovingly.

"What do you want?!" Neal demanded.

"Oh good, looks like Burke's waking up already." The kidnapper said, ignoring Neal's request. "It would have been really embarrassing if I'd killed him before we could even get started."

Neal stared at the screen as Peter jolted awake. Disoriented from the powerful electric shock Peter looked around his closed in surroundings with renewed panic. Scrambling back he pressed himself into the corner with his chest heaving for breath as he tried to figure out what was happening. Calming down somewhat as his memory returned Peter turned his head to the side and spat bright red blood onto the floor. Neal guessed that he must have bitten his tongue during the seizure.

"What the hell was that?" Peter demanded of no one.

Peter's confusion was understandable, from his perspective there had probably just been a flash of pain and then darkness. He wouldn't even be able to tell that less than a minute had passed while he was unconscious. In a few hours he was going to feel the muscle pain from the strain, but for right now he seemed more angry than anything else.

"I trust that I don't need to repeat this little lesson?" The kidnapper asked rhetorically. "Now then, as to what I want: I want you to be as loyal to me for the next forty-eight hours as you've been to Burke for the past two years."

"What?"

"Just follow orders, Caffrey, you do what I say and I'll make sure the climate is more agreeable for your handler. Now go get changed into something a little more 'street casual', and put on a good pair of running shoes. You've got a long day ahead of you."

Neal furrowed his brow at the fact that the kidnapper seemed to know what he was wearing. Looking closer at the tablet he'd been given Neal spotted the tiny web camera that was set into the front edge. Peter had returned to kneeling on the floor to avoid losing too much body heat to the conductive surface of the metal floor. The room was now twelve degrees warmer than it had been, but it was still at the freezing point. With his head bowed Peter hugged his arms over his stomach to try and keep warm. Despite the sweltering heat in his own world Neal's skin chilled in sympathy as he watched Peter start to shiver once more.

"You're not moving, Caffrey, you need to follow orders better if you expect Burke to survive this. Go get changed, and grab your bug out bag."

"I can't leave the apartment, my anklet..."

"Well I guess you are just going to have to cut it off now aren't you? Christ, I thought you were supposed to be smart." He grumbled. "Now move it before I send Burke into another seizure for your viewing pleasure."

"I'm sorry," Neal replied quickly "please don't hurt him."

"That all depends on you now doesn't it?"

Neal nodded and rushed off towards the walk in closet. He found himself feeling guilty for leaving the tablet on the table as though he'd left Peter himself behind. However he didn't want the kidnapper's eyes on him as he ran directly to his art supplies in the closet and tore through them until he found a grease pastel stick. Taking the drawing stick into the bathroom he reached out to scrawl a message to the FBI on the mirror.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The digital voice warned dangerously in Neal's ear. "I honestly don't know if Burke's heart can handle another shock right now, but we are going to find out if you don't start behaving yourself. "

Neal closed his eyes briefly and swore under his breath. He should have guessed that whoever had left the tablet for him had set up cameras around the apartment to make sure he didn't try anything. Neal threw the art crayon away in the trash and went back out into the closet to do as he'd been ordered. Practically tearing off the suit he was wearing Neal exchanged it for a white cotton under shirt and a light weight light blue button down that he left open along with a casual pair of khaki slacks. He dug his running shoes out of the closet and started to put them on.

Neal had lifted his right foot to slip into the shoe when Peter's voice cried out sharply in agony in his ear. Startled by the painful sound Neal jerked himself off balance and fell to the floor. When Peter screamed again Neal dug his fingers into the carpet and used the purchase to help launch himself back towards the kitchen table where the tablet was. When he got there Peter was standing up with his shoulder hunched over to avoid the low ceiling. He was shaking his hands out as though he was trying to get feeling back in them.

"What did you do to him?!" Neal barked.

"You weren't moving fast enough." The man explained simply. "I figured I'd take the chance to recalibrate the shock. I think I've got it dialed in now."

"Just give me five more minutes."

"You have two."

A counter started on the tablet that started at two and instantly went to one and fifty-nine. Neal raced back to the closet to get his shoes on and then dug out the small backpack that he always kept at the ready. He returned to the tablet with three seconds to spare. He held his breath as the counter went to zero, but true to his word the kidnapper didn't shock Peter again. Peter was still standing, now wary of touching the floor.

"Much better, Caffrey."

"You know that there is a good chance that I'm not going to get far once I cut my anklet, right?" Neal asked seriously. "I will have FBI, and US Marshals actively hunting me down, and every cop in the city will be on the look out for me."

"Use the motivation that your friend will die if you're caught to help you run faster."

"It doesn't really work like that..." Neal trailed off as he realized he didn't have any name to address the kidnapper with. "If you aren't going to give me a name what do I call you?"

"Good question." He paused while he thought. "Call me 'Alice'."

"Alice?" Neal repeated. "Seriously?"

"You asked."

"Fine. What do you want, Alice?"

Neal was given instruction to put whatever he needed that would fit out of his back pack and place it in the shoulder bag along with the tablet. He put the new phone in his pants pocket, he already had ditched his own phone knowing it could be used to track him. Neal picked out the items that he felt were essential and not easily replaced while on the run. Throwing the shoulder back around his neck he went into the kitchen and retrieved a heavy duty pair of scissors.

Bringing his foot up on a chair Neal slipped the scissors between his skin and the tracking anklet. Even with everything that was at stake he hesitated to cut it off. Once it was cut he was on his own, no one at the FBI would trust him and the US Marshals would launch into a man hunt.

"Are you ready to run, Caffrey?"

"...as I'll ever be."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Peter did not want to trust the floor again after receiving several painful shocks from the highly conductive metal. However remaining on his feet held two major disadvantages. Already weary from the taxing morning Peter was wasting energy by standing in the awkward position as he ducked away from the low ceiling. Secondly by standing he was directly in the path of the freezing breeze that flowed from the grate. The wind chill was making an uncomfortable cold down right dangerous. His skin had been burning from the cold before but now it was going numb which meant frostbite was imminent.

"Damned if I do..." Peter didn't bother finishing the saying.

Crouching down Peter hesitantly tapped his fingertips against the floor to test it. He wasn't sure if some sort of electrical short that had caused the jolts or if someone was triggering them intentionally. He figured that the later explanation was probably more likely. The soles of his shoes could protect him from the electricity, but he knew he wouldn't have the strength to stay crouched down on the balls of his feet for long. Since survival was a game of endurance Peter decided to risk pain in exchange for a more energy efficient position.

Kneeling down he braced himself for the repercussions. If the goal was to keep him on his feet it stood to reason that they would wait until he was down before setting off the shock again. Peter held his breath as he waited, but nothing happened. The room seemed slightly warmer than it had been before, but it was still painfully cold. Beginning to shiver once again Peter spent some time stretching out his muscles as they began to stiffen. Swallowing against the metallic taste of blood and a sore tongue Peter came to the logical conclusion that he'd suffered a seizure from too powerful a shock the first time around. The subsequent shocks had been better calibrated to cause pain rather than damage.

"Either you had the volts turned up on purpose or you have no idea what you're doing." Peter snarled at the tiny one way mirror that hid the camera. "I assume you can hear me so let me give you some advice on mistakes: they are a law man's best friend. We can make all sorts of mistakes along the way and still win, you can make just one error in judgment and you're caught. Release me now and you'll be given a decent amount of leniency. The FBI takes this sort of thing very personally, they will never give you what you want, and they will not rest until you make one mistake too many."

Peter was fully aware of the fact that even if his tormentor was captured that was no guarantee that he'd be rescued in time, but he wanted to at least plant a seed of doubt in their mind about going through with whatever they had planned. The FBI had a lot on the line when an Agent was taken, more than just getting back one of its own they had a reputation to up hold as well. Showing the world that they came down hard on anyone who dared harm one of them helped protect all of them from future attacks. The FBI needed to make sure that everyone thought long and hard about the consequences before tangling with a Federal Agent.

Even slowly freezing to death Peter was fully behind the FBI's 'no negotiations' policy. He would gladly give his life here and now to keep everyone in the organization safer in the future. If taking an Agent hostage worked even once the floodgates would be open. There were no half measures in his line of work. You couldn't just bark, you had to be willing to bite and to go for the throat every time you showed your teeth.

Thinking about Neal Peter feared that his young friend wouldn't have the same kind of resolve to make the difficult sacrifice of losing an individual to protect the group. Looking at the message on the wall Peter added to his concern that whoever this was knew Neal personally and would know his weaknesses. Hughes would do his best to control Neal, but he would have other things on his mind and more often than not it took all of Peter's concentration to keep Neal out of trouble. Peter had learned the hard way that when Neal was determined to break the rules there was basically nothing that could stop him.

"As hard as it would be on you I hope they sent you back to prison while they deal with this." Peter sighed to himself. "Not that you'd stay there long, but at least it would slow you down."

Worried about how Neal was reacting to the situation Peter sighed heavily, his breath forming a white cloud in front of him that dissipated like a morning mist. Taking stock in the events he realized that he had only been prisoner for a few hours even though it felt more like days. Exhausted from the shivering and the seizure he just wanted to lay down and sleep. Fearing that he'd never wake again if he laid down Peter tried closing his eyes and attempting to rest without falling asleep.

Staying aware of his surroundings Peter worked once again to determine where he was by the sounds around him. The constant hum from the freezer fan had turned into a background noise until it abruptly cut out. Peter opened his eyes and looked up at the grate and the cloth that was tied to it. The small strip of fabric fluttered momentarily as the fan attempted to kick back in, however with the alarming whining sound of machinery in distress the fan ground to a halt once more. The harsh lights above suddenly flickered a few times before they plunged Peter into absolute darkness. The thick blackness that fell over him confused his senses and for a moment colors swirled chaotically in front of his vision.

"This can't be good."

Closing his eyes did nothing to change Peter's view of the phantom colors. It was rare to find oneself in true pitch darkness and his brain didn't really know how to process it. On high alert Peter leaned more heavily on his other senses to try and figure out what was happening. The darkness was paired with a disturbing silence. Up in the far corner of the room he could now see a small pinpoint of red blinking light that was coming from the camera behind the glass, he reasoned that it must have a different power source than the lights. Unsure of what to do Peter sat back and just enjoyed the fact that with the air off the cold no longer bit at his skin as harshly.

Peter was trying to decide if things had taken turn for the better or for the worse when the unmistakable odor of smoke reach him through the blackness. Instantly alarmed Peter's blood turned to ice and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as adrenaline poured into his system. Putting his hand up to avoid hitting the ceiling Peter quickly got to his feet and carefully made his way over to the grate. Just as he had feared the scent became stronger as he approached the opening. Putting his injured hand against the mesh he noted that the air wasn't blowing but heat was radiating out of it. Leaning in closer he held his breath to hear better and with a horrifying realization he could just make out the distinct crackling sound made by a fire that quickly turned to a deep roar as the blaze caught strength.

Rearing back from the source of the deadly heat Peter slammed back first into the far wall. Momentarily panicking he turned around and dropped down to his knees so that he could pound his fist against the door, trying to get someone's attention. His best guess at the moment was that the large refrigeration unit that would be needed to chill the space had just suffered a massive break down and had caught fire. Even if his captors hadn't originally intended to kill him he was certainly in immediate danger of that now. The smoke rapidly grew thick enough to cause him to start coughing violently as the air became increasingly toxic.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Peter put just as much desperation in his voice as he felt in hopes that someone would hear him and answer. It was one thing to idly hold guard over someone who was just being held against their will, it was an entirely different experience to stand by listening to them cry out for help in the face of death. Praying for mercy Peter pounded against the door harder and begged for help once more. Pausing in his bid for freedom Peter pressed his ear against the door. There was no sound of life outside, he had hoped to at least hear the cries of alarm and panic that naturally went with an accidental blaze, but there was nothing other than the muffled roar of the fire that was quickly gathering power. A sickening pit opened up in Peter's stomach as he was forced to conclude that he was alone. Something had gone wrong and neither friend nor foe was there to try and fix it.

With the smoke and heat building up in the small room Peter's heart raced painfully as he tried to come up with a plan, but he couldn't think straight beyond the panic. The cold had been unpleasant and the confinement was anxiety producing, but there was something about the scent of smoke and the thought of being trapped in a fire that spoke directly to Peter's most primal instincts and drove fear into his heart like a dagger.

Giving up on the door Peter pressed his back into the corner furthest from the grate hard enough to actually cause pain as he uselessly tried to distance himself from the source of the growing danger. Even though he couldn't see it he knew more smoke was pouring into the pitch darkness as it became increasingly difficult and painful to breathe. He had been cursing the cold before, but now as the ambient temperature steadily rose above one hundred degrees he realized that he much preferred the other fate.

Sweat beaded against Peter's previously frozen skin and began to soak his clothes. The smoke combined with the heat was turning each breath into a sluggish labor intensive ordeal that didn't bring him any kind of relief. His chest began to burn and his heart pounded harder as he became less and less able to pull any usable oxygen from the stagnate air. Sitting with his back still up against the corner Peter pulled his knees up towards his chest as raw instinct took over his actions.

As the sound of the fire grew louder and the heat more intense the part of Peter's brain that was in charge of 'fight or flight' was screaming at him to do something as it tore him in both directions uselessly in its blind panic for survival. Fight or flight couldn't save him, there was no one to lash out at and there was no place to run. At the mercy of the environment the only thing he could do was try to hold on to his sanity during what was looking to be the last minutes of his life.

Coughing on the acrid smoke that now filled the air Peter curled up tighter and drew the lapel of his jacket over his face to try and filter out the choking ash. The frost had melted away and now the walls were becoming dangerously warm, heated by the fire that was probably raging out of control outside the container by this time. Peter was still struggling with the idea that there was no way out as the conditions in the fire trap became increasingly harsh.

Welding his blinded eyes shut Peter bit down hard on the inner lining of his jacket to keep himself from screaming. He knew that even with the video cut off by the dark whoever was doing this could still be listening, it was also likely that Neal or possible the entire White Collar division was being forced to listen as well, and he didn't want any of them knowing how terrified he was right now. He was actually grateful that the lights had shut off, it had made him feel more vulnerable to have one of his senses taken away, but now it was offering him privacy from the prying eye of the camera. In the cover of darkness Peter didn't have to fight the wracking tremors that had taken over his frame in waves as his fear finally managed to breakthrough his reason.

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth." Peter whispered, miserable at the thought of leaving her a widow. "I love you."

Peter brought his left hand up to his face to give his wedding band a gentle kiss. Focusing on the metal symbol Peter managed a slight smile. He had gotten up for work earlier than usual this morning and Elizabeth had still been sleeping when he was ready to leave. He had briefly considered just letting her sleep, but she had made it clear to him long ago that she never wanted him to leave for work without saying good-bye. Waking her for a quick kiss she had sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to drag him back into the warm inviting bed. They had both shared a chuckle as he reluctantly untangled himself from her amours embrace.

'Don't go.' Elizabeth teased.

'I have to. I'll see you tonight, Hon.'

'Have a good day.' Elizabeth returned as she settled back down into the covers. 'Love you.'

'Love you too.'

Taking comfort in a life well lived, and well loved Peter found serenity in its ending and waited peacefully to be overwhelmed by the heat and smoke. Only able to take shallow staggering breaths of the poisonous air Peter slowly felt the edges of his consciousness mercifully slipping away. Wanting the experience to be over with Peter's rational mind tried to give into the mysterious force that was puling his awareness away from him even though his animal side still wanted to fight. He decided that if he could lose consciousness before experiencing any real pain from the fire it would be a victory.

Expecting to be released from the dark nightmare by death at any moment Peter jerked violently when a strong rush of fresh air struck him. His first though was that the fire had caught the attention of a rescuer and he had been found. Still in the dark he pulled away from the corner and sought out the seam of the door, expecting it to be the source of the clean air. Finding the door still firmly shut he pounded against it a few times. He tried to call out for help but the residual smoke still in his lungs just sent him into a coughing fit.

"H...hello?" Peter managed to call weakly. "Please, I'm here..."

Finding it difficult to speak Peter just struck the door one last time to let anyone out there know he was still alive. It didn't take more than a few minutes for the air to fully recirculate in the small space and for the temperature to drop substantially. For the moment Peter didn't worry about the fact that the door wasn't opening, he just enjoyed the ability to take a few full pain free breaths.

When the all too familiar icy cold crept against his skin once more Peter furrowed his brow in confusion. It wasn't until he heard the healthy hum of the freezer once more that Peter realized that he hadn't been rescued. He slowly came to the conclusion that there had never been a malfunction or even a real fire. Peter ground his teeth in rage as the lights flickered back on. It had all been an act or possibly a test to see how he would behave under the threat of a painful death.

Proud of how he had handled the situation Peter narrowed his eyes and glared spitefully at the one way mirror that held the camera. Knowing now that they wanted to see him broken it was going to take a hell of a lot more to get him to show weakness in the future. If they had thought the traumatic event would weaken him they had gravely and dangerously miscalculated him.

Within five minutes the dropping temperature forced Peter to return to his position kneeling on the floor away from the walls as the sweat on his skin began to freeze. Peter rested comfortably with his hands on his lap rather than wrapped around his stomach. Even though he knew he still had to guard against the cold it barely bothered him anymore. He glanced over at message to Neal on the wall as it frosted over again. His jaw line tightened as he clenched his teeth together, he stared at the camera once again.

The writing on the wall didn't fool him any more. He assumed that his captor was getting something out of Neal and was working to manipulating him. However the elaborate set up that he was in wasn't just about controlling Neal. It was personal. Which was their first mistake, because now Peter had a good idea as to who was behind everything. It may not be the mistake that lead to their downfall, but at least it was one slip up closer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Making a mad dash through the city Neal had never run harder in his life. He had been given twenty minutes to reach the Northwest end of Central park. That broke down to about a three minute mile and although Neal ran regularly the task of making it six miles in twenty minutes was an impossible one. The threat of what would happen if he didn't at least try his best to make it in time kept him going at a painful speed as he raced down the street. The quickly rising temperature and the fact that he'd been suddenly forced into the race without any time to prepare wasn't helping him any. The shoulder bag that held the tablet, phone, and the few odds and ends from his bug out bag kept threatening to pull him off balance as he raced through the streets.

Usually Neal would have to deal with the crowds that often lined the New York streets, but with the miserable weather anyone who didn't need to be out was staying indoors today. Not paying attention as he ran down Madison Ave Neal went to cross 71st street without looking in the proper direction down the one way street for traffic forcing an oncoming taxi to slam hard on its breaks while the driver laid on the horn. The shiny taxi bummer skidded to a halt inches from hitting him.

Startled by the near miss Neal's step faltered and he fell to the searing hot asphalt. Protecting the tablet meant sacrificing his shoulder as Neal landed hard on his side to prevent crushing the delicate device. Striking the side of his head against the street he bloodied his temple. The cab driver had leaned out the window and was yelling at him for being careless but Neal didn't have time to stop and argue. Scrambling back to his feet he resumed his heart pounding pace without looking back.

Coming to 72nd street Neal turned left and pushed harder to make it down the last city block towards the Southeast entrance of the park near the Conservatory Pond. It was mid-morning on a Monday which even in beautiful weather meant reduced traffic in the park. With the heat nearly reaching one hundred Central Park was practically deserted. Neal wasn't sure how much time he had left, but he did know he still had a good two miles to go in order to get through the park around the large Reservoir and then up towards Harlem Meer.

"Tick tock, Caffrey." The sinister electronic voice buzzed in his ear as if reading his mind. "You have five minutes."

Neal had no hope of making it two miles in five minutes. Under the best of circumstances he couldn't run that fast, no human could. All he could do was hope that his best was good enough to appease 'Alice' as he pushed on through the greenery of Central Park. Every breath lanced pain down the back of his throat and into his burning lungs. With his blood turing to acid Neal fought to ignore the pain in his muscles that flared with every step. As he reached the limits of what he was physically capable of Neal began to fear that at this rate his heart might actually fail him.

Sprinting across the Great Lawn Neal was sharply reminded of the children's novel by John Gardiner, 'Stone Fox'. Determined to prove herself to her master the sled dog Searchlight pushes herself so hard during an important race that her heart gives out and she dies ten feet from the finish line. In the story Searchlight is rewarded for her loyalty by being conceded as the winner of the race despite the fact that her owner had to drag her in death the last few critical feet. Hoping not to suffer Searchlight's fate but not about to slow down Neal pushed harder through the last mile even though he was already ten minutes late by the time he reached the grove of trees at the Northwest end of the large rectangular shaped park.

Arriving at his destination Neal collapsed to the grass gasping heavily against the painful stitch in his side that felt like someone was twisting a knife into his ribs. Blood streaked down his face from his temple, but he didn't notice. He was in relative privacy in the middle of a stand of oak trees to the west of the near by lake. Rolling over onto his back Neal growled in pain between labored breaths as his heart threatened to stumble in its galloping rhythm. Soaked to the skin in sweat and dangerously close to succumbing to heat exhaustion Neal fought to regain control as the edges of his vision began to turn black. Suddenly nauseous he rolled back over and forced himself to his hands and knees as he began dry heaving violently against the exertion of the run.

"Not bad," Alice chuckled "certainly far better than I could have done even if it was my own life that was on the line let alone someone else's."

Neal wanted to snarl a retort back at Alice but he couldn't find his voice. He managed to get his stomach to settle but he was feeling dizzy as the grass seemed to sway underneath him. Swallowing hard a few times Neal slowly began to recover from the run. His heart was still pounding against his ribs, but it was starting to slow down to a more sustainable rhythm. Laying down on his side with his chest heaving Neal closed his eyes as a powerful runner's high flooded his heated blood with endorphins and erased most of his pain, although it did little against the exhaustion. Moaning pitifully he seriously considered just allowing himself to pass out.

Realizing that he might actually black out if he stayed down Neal force himself to sit up. Cooling down a bit despite the warmth in the summer breeze Neal took a few deep breaths and pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. He dug out the tablet along with a bottle of water that he'd grabbed last minute when he'd been heading out of his apartment. Neal sipped carefully at the water knowing that it if he drank it too fast that it would just come right back up again. Tapping on the screen to bring the tablet to life Neal found Peter exactly where he had been last, kneeling on the floor shaking in the cold.

"Caffrey?" Alice asked in his deep electronic voice.

"I'm here," Neal announced unnecessarily "what do you want? Why am I in the park?"

"I just wanted you to work off some of your excess nervous energy so that you could focus better."

"You nearly killed me."

"I also wanted to see how motivated you are. I'm impressed if that matters to you."

"It doesn't." Neal said bitterly. "I want to talk to Peter."

"Not yet."

"I'm not taking another step without proof of life." Neal spat.

"You're looking at him aren't you?"

"This could be a video loop."

"I can turn up the electricity again if you want me to. That should convince you that the feed is live."

"No. Please don't." Neal said quickly. "I'll trust you."

"See? Our relationship is getting stronger already. Now then, get out the phone and bring up the GPS. You will find a pin on the map, go there, you should already be close."

Doing as he was told Neal pulled out the phone and opened the GPS app. Looking at the phone he was trying to think of a way to get a hold of Mozzie without letting Alice know. If he could get the phone and tablet into Mozzie's hands, even for just a few minutes, he might have a way of tracing the call or better yet the video back to its source. Alice insisted that he keep the ear piece in at all times so he couldn't talk to Mozzie without Alice hearing and Neal feared trying to send a text from this phone. If he'd had more time on the way over he would have picked someone's pocket for a phone, but he didn't think of it until now.

Neal discovered that he was very close to the GPS coordinates on the phone. Struggling to his feet Neal walked towards a line of bushes about fifty feet away. Once he was closer he spotted a black backpack nestled into the greenery. Assuming that the bag was his goal Neal picked it up and brought it back over to where he'd left the shoulder bag. Unable to stay on his feet he sat back down in the soft grass.

"I found the bag." Neal said.

"Good, open it."

Neal unzipped the bag and pulled out a large towel. Putting it aside he removed three clear vacuum sealed bags. He turned them over his hands and looked at the contents. The first one had a white dress shirt and sky blue silk tie, the other two had a pair of gray slacks with a pair of boxers and the matching light weight gray blazer.

"Is this is one of mine?" Neal asked as he looked at the suit.

"I didn't know your size, stealing that from your closet just seemed easier. I liked the pin-stripping on that one. I didn't want you soaking it during your run. Towel off as best you can and put it on. I know the running shoes won't really match but you still need those."

"Fashion isn't really high on my list of concerns at the moment."

"It's one of my concerns and that's all that matters. I need you to look the part of 'Neal Caffrey' and you can't do that running around in sweat soaked shirt and casual pants. Am I wrong?"

"I suppose you're not wrong, but I am starting to think that you're insane."

"I've kidnapped a Federal Agent, of course I'm insane. Now if you don't want to spend the next six months finding bloody pieces of said Agent on your door step in the mornings I suggest you do as you're told and get dressed." Alice snarled in obvious frustration. "You're a real pain in the ass to work with, Caffrey, I honestly don't know how Burke has put up with you this long."

"It hasn't been easy for him." Neal admitted. "But he's stubborn like that."

"Stop talking, you're wasting mine and Agent Burke's time."

Neal had been stalling, he was trying to goad Alice into saying something that might help him identify who he was dealing with. His first thought had been Keller, but Keller didn't lose his temper with him the way this guy was. Keller was always dead calm and in control no matter what was happening around him. Knowing it wasn't Keller wasn't as helpful as knowing who it was, but it was certainly a start. Fearing that Peter would suffer if he tried to stall more right now Neal agreed to change outfits.

After opening the plastic bags Neal looked around to make sure no one was watching, the last thing he needed right now was to get arrested for indecent exposure. Pulling off his soaked shirt he used the towel to remove as much of the sweat and salt off his skin as he could. It wasn't until he buried his face in the towel that he even realized that he was bleeding. There was a gash in his temple that continued to bleed despite his efforts to stanch the flow. Looking around in the shoulder bag Neal found the small med kit he had brought and used an alcohol pad to clean the area and two butterfly steri-strips to hold the wound closed. After somewhat drying off his hair Neal looked around once more before pulling off the rest of his clothes. Working quickly Neal dried off enough to pull on the fresh set of pants.

"The Marshals are at your apartment." Alice informed sounding playful again. "They are making a real mess."

"I'll send you a bill for the damages."

Neal finished buttoning his shirt and snaked the tie around his neck before tying it with practiced ease. He didn't put the jacket on, he'd wait on that until he left the Park. It was simply too hot out to put it on and he was still feeling the effects of his run. Finishing off the bottle of water he turned his attention back to the tablet. Peter had moved slightly, he now had his chin resting on his chest with his eyes closed. He looked like he was doing his best to get some rest without laying down.

"Hold on, Peter, I'll find you." Neal whispered forgetting that he could be heard.

"Do as I ask and you won't have to find him, once I have what I want I'll tell you exactly where he is."

"So what do you want?"

"There should be two more objects in the front pouch of the back bag, go ahead and get those out."

Neal picked up the backpack and unzipped the front area. He knit his brow together as he pulled out a beautiful masquerade type mask of a stylized white rabbit face with gold trim. The mask was designed to cover the face from the nose up, with the rabbit's heart shaped muzzle forming the bottom half of the piece. The left ear was bent forward at the tip slightly to give the impression of being floppy even though the piece was crafted from firm painted leather. The eyes were cut out in two gracefully titled almond shapes. The eyes, nose, and ears were all accented in gold and it had a gold silk ribbon to hold it in place.

"What do you think?" Alice asked. "I had it made just for you."

"Thanks, but this will hide my identity about as well as Superman putting on a pair of glasses."

"No one ever seemed to make the connection between him and Clark."

"Because that was a comic, unfortunately we live in the real world."

"I have another gift for you in there."

Neal put the rabbit mask down in the grass and reached back into the bag. Neal's still tired heart jumped as his hand came in contact with cold steel. Neal closed his hand around the grip of the handgun and pulled it out just enough to get a look at it. The standard issue sidearm held wear marks and scratches from years of use, however it had been meticulously well maintained. Neal didn't need to check the serial number to be able to guess with confidence that it was Peter's weapon. Making sure the safety was on Neal put the powerful handgun back in the backpack.

"No." Neal said firmly shaking his head for emphasis. "No guns. I'm not killing anyone, forget it. Peter wouldn't even want me to. He would never forgive me if I exchanged his life for another."

"Relax, Caffrey, I've been told about your stand on guns so I loaded it with blanks."

"It doesn't matter, you bring a gun, even an unloaded one, into any situation and dynamic changes. This is a crowded city I am not risking someone getting caught in the cross fire when the cops, or the FBI starts shooting at me because I'm armed."

Thinking back on what Alice had just said about his feelings on guns Neal suddenly had a revelation. It wasn't the first time their tormentor had used wording that suggested that he only knew about Neal through second hand information. Neal was beginning to suspect that whoever this was wasn't from his own past, he was from Peter's. Neal added contacting the FBI to his mental list of steps right after getting in touch with Mozzie. If he could let them know that they were dealing with someone who had a powerful vendetta against Peter then they could start a list from his old cases.

'This can't be good...'

Hearing Peter's voice instead of the distorted digital sound of Alice's startled Neal. Searching the area immediately around him Neal found the tablet once again. When he picked it up the screen stayed black, the only thing that came up was the display in the corner that gave the temperature information. The room temperature was steadily increasing. Neal stared at the 'set temperature' in horror as it blinked 200 degrees. At the rate the actual temperature was rising it would only take ten to fifteen minutes for the room to reach the deadly temperature. Neal had no idea how long someone could survive in such extreme conditions but he couldn't imagine that it would be more than a few minutes.

"What are you doing?" Neal asked anxiously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you said you weren't going to play anymore." Alice said apologetically. "I have no use for Burke if you aren't interested in even listening to what I want."

"You can't kill him, the FBI will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and so will I!" Neal snarled hoping that the threat of the government retaliating would buy Peter a reprieve. "Stop and think about what you are getting yourself into, he's a Federal Agent!"

"He's only human."

Neal thought furiously about the best course of action. There was no video so the rise in temperature could just as easily be a bluff. Neal suddenly heard Peter slam into the wall of his prison before pounding against the metal container that was holding him captive. Something more than just the lights going out was happening, Neal knew Peter wouldn't panic just because of the darkness.

'Help me!' Peter cried desperately. 'Help me, please!'

Neal's stomach lurched at the sound of Peter's plea for help. He had never heard such a level of fear in his voice before. Peter called out for help once more before he gave up on both shouting and beating against the door. Neal was shaking violently as he continued to listen to Peter coughing and seeking escape, but he had decided that the only move was to call Alice's bluff. There would be no sense in killing Peter without getting what he wanted first, he would back down, Neal just had to wait him out. Winning this battle of wills now could be the difference of life or death for Peter later on.

"It's not just the heat that's driving Burke to panic." Alice said calmly. "He thinks there has been an accidental fire, I set the whole thing up with sound effects and everything. The whole place is filling with a thick choking smoke. The fire fake, but he doesn't know that because the smoke and the heat are very real. The combination will quickly prove deadly if you don't say something to make me stop."

The added information began to break Neal's resolve. It was hard enough to deal with the thought that Peter was uncomfortable in the heat, but the horror of being trapped in a fire was something that invoked thoughts of a thoroughly Medieval torment. Putting the tablet down so that Alice couldn't spy on him through the web cam Neal brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down hard on the heel of his palm to keep himself silent.

'I'm so sorry, Elizabeth...I love you.'

Neal's chest tightened painful at the sorrow and hopelessness in Peter's voice as he said goodbye to his wife. The sound of Peter's rapid labored breathing as he lost the ability to fight echoed hauntingly in Neal's ear. Neal didn't need a visual of what was happening to Peter, his imagination was painting him a terrifyingly vivid picture of the scene even without it. Neal closed his eyes and tears slipped down his face as it became increasingly difficult to continue to call Alice's bluff by remaining quiet. Peter coughed weakly with a sickly wet sound as his breathing became painfully raspy. He was dying, there was no doubt in Neal's mind about that. What he was starting to doubt was his confidence in the idea that Alice wouldn't take this all the way to murder just to win even if it did ruin the rest of his plans.

"Your friend only has a few minutes before the damage from the smoke inhalation becomes irreversible." Alice informed coldly. "Do *not* underestimate me, Caffrey. I am more than ready to kill him. Are you ready to let him die?"

"...no." Neal finally admitted defeat. "Please help him."

"Gladly."

Neal could hear the fan kick on in the container as it cleared the smoke. Picking up the tablet again he watched the black screen as the temperature began to drop back towards freezing. In the darkness Peter proved he was still alive by going into another coughing fit as his lungs worked to clear themselves now that the air was clean.

'H...hello?' Peter asked. 'Please, I'm here...'

Neal bowed his head and ground his teeth in frustration. He guessed that Peter had thought he'd been truly rescued, not just given a stay of execution. The lights flickered on and Peter looked around confused for a moment. When he realized what had happened Peter glared directly at the camera murderously. Neal had wondered if Peter knew he was being watched and now he had the answer.

Neal had to admire Peter's courage when he simply returned to kneeling on the floor and calmly continued to wait. Neal watched as Peter glanced over at the writing on the wall and then glare up at the camera. Neal could tell that Peter had just figured out who had taken him, he could see it in his eyes. With renewed hope Neal added 'find a way to talk to Peter' to the top of his list of actions. He needed that name and he trusted Peter to find a way to get it to him without tipping his hand.

"Caffrey?"

"I'm listening."

"Good. Ridgewood Savings Bank on 1st Ave, I want you to take the gun and go rob it."

"You want money?" Neal asked in disgust. "If it's money you want, I can easily get it without violently robbing a busy bank in broad daylight. Just name your price and give me a few hours."

"Don't insult me. I don't want the money, do whatever you want with it when you're done. Keep it as a reward for a job well done."

"I don't understand."

"It's not about the money, it's about making a scene."

"The FBI has jurisdiction over all bank robberies so they will have to respond. You're trying to spread the their resources thinner."

"Like butter on dry toast. Now get moving."

"About the gun..."

"No more talking, no more arguing, and no more demonstrations, defy me in any way again and I will simply break contact with you. Burke will suffer trapped for days before he succumbs to agonizing dehydration and you will never find the body." Alice threatened seriously. "Ridgewood Bank, 1st and 86th, you have fifteen minutes to get there before I make life very difficult for you partner."

"Plea..."

"Run, Rabbit, run!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"That concludes section one, page two hundred. Section two addresses immigra..."

"How many sections are there to this thing?" Hughes interrupted the ranting caller irritably.

"Seven. Do not interrupt me if you want to see your Agent alive again. Section two..."

"Something's not right." Hughes muttered after he clicked on the mic mute button. In the background the kidnapper continued to read his manifesto as though he hadn't been interrupted. "This guy is jerking us around."

"We are still working on a trace, every two minutes it seems to come from somewhere else in the city." One of the tech guys said. "I don't know what he's using yet, but he has some serious scrambling software on his side."

"And yet he sounds like a lunatic that probably has trouble dressing himself in the morning. These are the ramblings of a paranoid schizophrenic, not someone capable of orchestrating a coordinated attack against a well trained Agent."

"Eventually we will crack the software and then we can find him."

"How long to crack it?"

"At this rate?" The tech looked guiltily at his coworkers who just shrugged helplessly. "Two, maybe three days."

"Depending on how they are treating him and how insistent they get on this damn manifesto Peter might not have that kind of time, assuming he's still alive since we haven't been given proof of life." Hughes sighed.

"We are doing everything we can, Sir."

"I know you are. Keep at it." Hughes reached over and flicked off the mute so that he could talk to the man again. "Listen, this is not going to end well for you. We do not negotiate, but we do hold a serious grudge. Release Agent Burke now and some leniency will be shown. In the meantime you can post your manifesto to the internet."

"I want this in tomorrow's New York Times, front page."

"Not happening."

The man didn't respond he just continued reading off from where he had stopped. Hughes muted the mic again to reduce the temptation to cuss at the babbling kidnapper. It was difficult enough to lose an Agent over something important, but this was just insanity. Hughes laced his hands behind his head for a moment, trying not to show the rest of the team how stressed he was about not getting anywhere with finding Peter.

Hughes looked over as Diana tapped gently on the closed glass conference door. Needing an escape from the room for a moment anyway Hughes stepped out rather than inviting Diana in. Diana had a file folder in her hands and an expression on her face that told Hughes he was probably not going to hear any good news.

"Has Jones and his team gotten anywhere in the warehouse district?"

"No." Diana shook her head sadly. "There has been an odd development though, an armed bank robbery at Ridgewood on 1st."

"Diana, I don't have time for a bank robbery right now." Hughes grumbled. "If a gun was involved give it to Violent Crimes, they won't mind us making it their problem."

"I think we want to make it our problem." Diana opened the folder and held up a print off of a still taken from a surveillance camera. "You can't tell me this isn't Caffrey."

Hughes took the surveillance photo to get a better took. The general description certainly matched Caffrey: white male, medium length dark hair that was matted down with sweat, lean build, average height, tightly tailored expensive suit. The robber was wearing an unusual rabbit mask that covered a little more than half his face but showed a square jaw line with a five o'clock shadow. The eyes were hidden in the shadow of the mask, but an eyewitness at the scene could probably fill in that detail. If it wasn't Caffrey it was someone who bore a striking resemblance to him.

They had gotten a call from the Marshals that he had cut his anklet and bolted about an hour ago, but Hughes hadn't had the time to even think about Neal yet. Hughes looked at the weapon held in the man's hand, he held it like someone who knew how to use a gun but not with a natural practiced ease. He also noticed that it was the same make and model as the standard FBI issue.

"Damn it." Hughes sighed as he looked at the photo. "What the hell is he doing?"

"I don't know, but this isn't like Neal."

"He's a criminal, Diana."

"But he's not a violent one, and beyond that he wouldn't do something like this when Peter is in trouble just for the kicks of it. Say what you will about him, but he is loyal to Peter."

"To a fault." Hughes agreed. "Alright, go down to that bank and get me details. Tell the Marshals you found a lead on Caffrey. I want him found."

"Yes, Sir."

Hurrying down the stairs Diana headed for the elevators. After Caffrey had bolted from his apartment a general All-points Bulletin had been released by the US Marshals to help hunt him down. Diana had made sure that she was part of the list of persons to notify if he turned up anywhere as well. However she hadn't gotten the lead on the bank robbery from an outside source, it had been a friend of her's in Violent Crimes that had sent the photo over to her. The whole Federal Building knew what was going on and her VC contact had met Neal on a few occasions in passing.

On the elevator ride down Diana pulled out her phone to call the Marshals and update them on the possible sighting at Ridgewood. Holding the phone she hesitated to dial the number. She already had a very strong theory as to why Neal would be at that bank and she wasn't sure she wanted him caught. He didn't have to follow any of the rules that the FBI did when it came to dealing with kidnappers. Not wanting to put the Marshals on his tail without more information Diana called Jones.

"Diana, any good news?" Jones asked hopefully.

"No. In fact, if I told you that Caffrey just robbed a bank armed with a standard issue sidearm, what would your first thought be?"

"Caffrey with a gun? I'd say he's being forced into it. Why? Has that happened?"

"There is a high probability."

"If someone wanted to control Caffrey taking Peter would be an excellent place to start."

"Yeah, but why a bank?" Diana asked confused. "It's a far riskier move to kidnap a Federal Agent than it is to rob a bank."

"Plus any idiot can hold a bank up with a gun. If you wanted a job like that done why pick Caffrey?"

"And if all the kidnapper wanted was money I would think that Caffrey would either have plenty of it squirreled away or he'd have a better way of getting it that didn't involve a high risk armed attack on a very secure location."

"Nothing about it seems right. Are you sure it was Caffrey?"

"I'm not. I'm headed down there now to talk to eyewitnesses."

"Keep me posted."

"I will. Good luck with the door to door."

"Thanks, we've got three of the best scent dogs in the business down here with us, but so far they haven't picked up on anything."

"We'll find him." Diana said not sounding very confident.

"You tell the Marshals about your Caffrey lead?" Jones asked knowingly.

"No." Diana admitted. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I kinda feel better with him on the street right now."

"Same here."

Diana managed a smile for the first time that day. She felt better knowing that she wasn't alone in feeling that Neal could do a lot more good right now set free than locked up by the Marshals. Getting to the parking garage she showed the newly posted guards her badge before heading to her car. The underground structure was fairly secure to begin with, but since this morning they had it under tighter watch.

Quickly making it to the Ridgewood Savings Bank Diana flashed her badge at the local cop who was standing outside to protect the crime scene. Inside Violent Crimes was busy processing everything. Agent Walsh caught sight of her and waved her over.

"Diana." He greeted warmly. "Any news on Agent Burke?"

"Not yet."

"Well as your boss already knows if you guys need anything from Violent Crimes we are at your disposal."

"Thank you."

"I take it you got my email?"

"I did."

"So? Do you think this was Caffrey?"

"I don't know. It's not like him."

"Oh you haven't heard the details yet." Walsh smiled. "Strangest damn bank robber I've ever dealt with."

"What happened?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you to Cindy, she can tell you. She was the teller that dealt with him the most."

Diana followed Walsh towards the back offices. Cindy was sitting in one of the chairs in front of her boss's desk looking shaken by her experience. Walsh introduced the pair to one another before asking the bank manager if they could talk outside. The manager quickly agreed and he and Agent Walsh left Diana and Cindy alone.

"How are you doing?" Diana asked gently.

"I'm okay. It was my first robbery, I was always told that it was part of the job but I never really expected it to happen."

"Tell me about the man."

The way the young woman instantly blushed told Diana volumes. She had suspected Neal before, she knew for a fact that it was him now.

"He was...actually kind of nice, I mean I know he was robbing the place and all, but kept assuring me that everything was going to be okay, and that no one was going to get hurt. He did do something odd though, he kept turning his head and tapping at his ear."

"His ear? Was he wearing anything in it?"

"Not that I could see, but he tapped here, like this..." Cindy demonstrated by reaching up and tapping three times at her right tragus just in front of her ear. "He did that a couple of times. Do you think it was a nervous tick or something?"

"Maybe." Diana said knowing that Neal didn't have nervous ticks, if it was him he was relaying a message. Perhaps he was trying to alert to an ear piece even it wasn't easily visible.

"That wasn't even the weirdest part. He purposefully took a dye pack."

"What?"

"I was so nervous that I had forgotten that I even had it. It sits on a little magnetic plate in my drawer to keep it from going off. Once you take it off the plate it is activated and then once it's out of the building it goes off after fifteen seconds."

"And you think he knew what it was?"

"He pointed it out deliberately and said 'I need that'. There were other higher denomination stacks of money left in the drawer but he didn't seem very interested in it, the dye pack was hidden in a stack of tens."

"Anything else?"

"Just before he left he apologized." Cindy smiled. "Not out loud, but he mouthed 'I'm sorry'. I swear he did."

"What color were his eyes?"

"Blue, very blue."

Diana thanked Cindy and went in search of Agent Walsh. He was in the front lobby with the bank manager but seeing Diana he quickly excused himself.

"Come on, you need to see this." Walsh announced.

Walsh lead Diana out into the back of the building where a narrow alley acted as a service entrance for the businesses. Several tech workers were collecting evidence from behind a large green dumpster. One of the tech lifted up a black backpack that was dripping in blue ink while another held open a plastic bag to place it in. Walsh guided Diana around the dumpster to see the far side. The ground was littered with bills soaked in bright blue ink, several of which were crumpled up. Walsh brought Diana's attention up to the wall that had messy lettering scrawled across it in blue.

"'Enemy List'." Diana read the dripping ink out loud.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"It means Peter wasn't taken randomly."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven  
 _  
'Have a good day.'_

Peter jolted awake as Elizabeth's good-bye from this morning invaded his dreams. He felt like he had only lapsed into unconsciousness for a second and had woken to a powerful sensation of falling. He had hoped that the adrenaline from the ordeal with the smoke would have lasted longer, but it had only taken about fifteen minutes for his body to forget the near brush with death and for a heavy fatigue to set in. Still kneeling on the frost covered floor Peter snapped his head up to keep himself from slipping right back into sleep.

Looking around at the dull metal that surrounded him Peter was suddenly having a difficult time remembering why it was so important to stay awake. Beyond the mild stages of hypothermia he no longer shivered in the cold as his body began to give up the fight to try and keep warm. Although he couldn't remember a time when he'd been more tired a pang of anxiety stabbed through him when he thought of sleeping. Something about sleep was terrifying, but he didn't know why as the cold slowed his thought process.

Somewhat aware that he wasn't thinking clearly Peter decided to just focused on the idea that he needed to stay awake rather than bother with trying to figure out why. Only ten minutes later he started to lose hold of the idea that there was any danger and he was seriously considering laying down. Before he could move a sound like muffled footsteps caught Peter's full attention and helped him wake.

"N...Neal? I think...I think I'm in trouble..."

Even to his own ears Peter's voice didn't sound right, his words were slurred and difficult to understand. With his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth he decided against trying to speak again. Shaking his head to try and clear his mind Peter listened for the footsteps again, but the only sound that reached him was the incessant mechanical droning of the fan. Putting his hands over his ears he attempted to drown out the maddening sound. Unable to escape the constant maddening hum Peter put his hands back in his lap and sighed in defeat.

Starting to feel overheated despite the ice that was frozen to his skin Peter reached up and loosened his tie and undid the top button on the collar of his shirt. Falling deeper into delirium as his core temperature dropped further Peter started to take off his jacket. Before he could continue with the dangerous paradoxical undressing the small one way mirror at the top corner caught Peter's eye. Suddenly filled with a blinding rage Peter hiked his jacket back up on his shoulders and jumped to his feet to attack the glass. Uncoordinated from the cold and the hours spent on the floor he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.

Not easily deterred from his prey Peter growled in frustration and forced himself back to his feet. He didn't know why the mirror made him so angry, and he didn't care. Weaving drunkenly he made it the short distance to the mirror and threw his fist at it hard enough to crack bone. Not even registering the pain he struck at the bullet proof mirror again. The cut in his palm from earlier opened up and began to bleed heavily.

Having a new thought Peter pressed his palm against the mirror and smeared it with blood. Satisfied that the threat had been neutralized Peter took a step back and quickly lost his balance and landed hard on the metal floor again. Unable to coordinate his motions or keep his thoughts organized Peter began to panic. Driven by a sudden need to hide Peter crawled over to the corner furthest from the grate. Laying down with his back against the wall he curled up tightly.

With his side and back now in full contact with the metal his body began losing heat at an accelerated rate. The mental confusion that accompanied even just a three degree drop in core temperature kept Peter from realizing the danger of what he was doing. Victims of hypothermia were often found tucked away in tiny spaces as their condition drove them to seek shelter in any form. Closing his eyes Peter didn't care if he woke again or not, he just didn't want to look at the confining metal walls for another second.

If the room temperature had remained below freezing it wouldn't have taken much time before Peter's heart stopped. However before he could even fall asleep he could feel the temperature rising. The frost on the walls turned to condensation once more and dripped off the ceiling. Feeling stronger as the temperature reached a comfortable level Peter risked opening his eyes. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to be pulled back from the brink of death again. Thinking about Elizabeth Peter reminded himself of the importance continuing to fight. The longer he managed to stay alive the better chance he had of being found.

'Get up.' A digitized voice demanded.

Despite the threatening tone to the computerized voice it was comforting to hear something other than the hum of the fan. Peter looked up in the direction of the blood smeared mirror even though the voice seemed to come from all directions at once. He sat up, but he didn't get to his feet.

'Clean the mirror.'

"No."

'Get up, and clean the mirror.' The voice growled menacingly.

"Sorry, I don't negotiate." Peter explained. "Come in here and clean it yourself, plenty of room in here for two."

'You want me to throw Caffrey in there with you?'

"Sure." Peter shrugged. "He makes for surprisingly good company. Oh, but wait, then he couldn't run around doing your dirty work. So I'm guessing your threat is an empty one."

Peter yelped in surprise and pain as the floor snapped at him with burst of electricity. Scrambling to his feet he couldn't believe that he had forgotten that the floor could do that. The cold had punched a few holes in his memory, but it was all coming back to him now.

'How is that for an empty threat?'

"More convincing." Peter admitted. "But the answer is and will always be 'no'."

'I'm only going to ask you nicely to clean the glass one last time.'

"Then I guess I only have to say 'no' one last time."

Standing in the middle of the small room making sure not to get too close to the low ceiling Peter waited to see what his captor's retaliation would be. Under his shoes the floor started to crackle with a dangerous amount of electricity. Peter rocked back onto the thicker heels of his shoes knowing that the soles were not technically designed to protect from shock. It wouldn't take much for the electricity to arc if it was turned up high enough. However it was clear that the man holding him wasn't interested in risking killing him just yet and didn't apply the kind of high voltage that would be required to complete a circuit through the rubber and leather soles of his shoes. After a minute or so the crackling sound subsided.

'That was me asking nicely.'

"Oh sorry, I didn't get that. Allow me to reply: 'no'."

'You are much harder to reason with than Caffrey, but I knew that from the start.'

"You knew that about him or about me?"

Peter still felt that he had a good idea of who he was dealing with, which wasn't a heartening thought, but he didn't want the man knowing that he suspected him. It would be even worse if he said a name out loud and proved to be wrong, so it was better to just keep playing ignorant. Peter had asked the question in hopes of getting him to say something that could positively identify him.

Peter was just about to ask something else when there was a frighteningly familiar pungently sweet scent in the air. It was the same chemical that had been used during the attack in the parking garage. He wasn't sure if it was just ether or possibly ether mixed with chloroform, either way he knew it wasn't going to take long for it to bring him down. With his vision already swimming there was nothing he could do to prevent being overtaken by the powerful compound. Laying on the floor to avoid falling to it Peter closed his eyes and slipped into darkness.

'I did what you asked me to, now let him go!'

"Neal?"

'Peter? Peter, can you hear me?!'

Peter wasn't sure what he could hear. Waking from the heavy does of drugs brought along with it a great deal of confusion and a splitting headache. Opening his eyes he found himself laying on his back staring up at the metal ceiling. Vaguely remembering something about blood Peter looked up at the mirror in the corner, but it was clean. Groaning in pain he tried to reach up to rub at his temple only to find his hands secured behind his back. At first he thought it was just because he was laying on them so he rolled over onto side only to confirmed that he was wearing metal cuffs around his writs. He ground his teeth together in irritation when he realized that the cuffs most likely belonged to him in the first place. He didn't bother pulling at them knowing that he would only end up injuring his wrist and his hand already painful enough from punching the glass.

'That should keep you from painting over my camera.' The digital voice mocked.

'Peter?!' Neal called out again.

Peter remained quiet this time feeling that it would be better if Neal thought he couldn't hear him. There wasn't anything useful he could really say right now anyway. Still laying on his side he just stared at the wall to keep himself from glancing up at the camera again.

'Stubborn, just like Caffrey. Although he already proved weak this morning, let's see if he's grown up any.'

Peter was still trying to shake off the effects of the ether when the floor crackled with energy once more. Taken by surprise Peter screamed as the needling teeth of the electric current bit down hard along his whole left side. The electricity only lasted a second but it had been very effective. Trying to avoid another painful encounter Peter fought with his rebelling muscles and his restrained wrists to get to his feet. After struggling to stand he was almost instantly dropped back to the floor by another paralyzingly painful jolt. Kicking spasmodically at the floor he realized through the red haze of pain that his shoes and socks had been taken from him while he was passed out.

The floor went cold again but Peter feared it was only a matter of seconds before it started again. With no way to protect himself from the cruel floor Peter rolled over onto his back and brought up his legs so that he could slam his feet into the door in a desperate attempt to break it down. Motivated by fear and pain he was able to put a sizable dent in the metal, but the door remained sealed. He was about to kick at it once more when the shocking energy seized a hold of him in its powerful invisible grip. Jerking violently Peter pulled at his bound wrists until the metal cut into his skin. As much as Peter wanted to stay silent the white hot agony that coursed through him pried his voice from his throat until it cracked. The current shut off after a few seconds but even the short jolt it left him panting heavily and disoriented.

'Stop!' Neal begged. 'Please, don't do this!'

'Ready to behave?'

'Fine!' Neal snarled. 'I'll do it, just stop!'

"Neal?! Neal, no!" Peter roared with all the fury of a lion. "Don't you dare take a single step in any direction that this psychopath wants you to take!"

'Peter...'

"Neal! Not *one* step! Understand?!"

'...I do.'


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight  
 _  
'Neal! Not *one* step! Understand?!'_

"...I do."

Having to put the tablet down for a moment to try and compose himself Neal raked his hands compulsively through his sweat soaked hair. Closing his eyes he clenched his jaw to help keep himself from being sick. He didn't want Alice knowing just how deeply watching Peter suffer had effected him. He had already lost enough ground when he agreed to the first bank robbery. He had also caved on doing a second one and having just finished that one he had found a quiet place to lay low only to discovered that Alice had knocked Peter unconscious and cuffed his hands behind his back along with stealing his shoes.

While Peter was recovering from the drugs Neal and Alice had gotten into an argument over the next step in the 'plan' which had lead to Peter paying a high price for Neal's reluctance to continue. Despite Neal telling Peter that he understood that he wasn't to take any more orders Alice was letting Peter rest instead of tormenting him further.

Swallowing the bile that had risen to the back of his throat Neal opened his eyes once again. He looked around the empty bakery that he was hiding out in. They had closed for remodeling, but the construction workers seemed to be taking the day off. The windows were blacked out and the place was partially torn apart with mess from construction everywhere. He wasn't very far from the last bank he had 'hit', but running around in the heat was starting to take its toll on him. Luckily even under construction the bakery was air conditioned since it was part of a larger building that was still open for business. Neal picked up the tablet and watched Peter laying on the floor breathing heavily.

"Peter?" Neal asked gently.

"He can't hear you anymore."  
 _  
'Seven, four, two...eight, seven, three, four...one, nine. ...one, eight?' Peter muttered to himself sounding drunk. '...one, nine?...one eight? ...seven, four, two...eight, seven, three, four...one, nine, eight...'_

"Burke is babbling," Alice said with mock concern "that's not a good sign."

Neal knew that Peter wasn't rambling pointlessly, he was reciting a case file number. It seemed that he couldn't quite remember the last digit, but the pauses were where the dashes would be. Neal committed 724-8734-19 and 8 to memory he would get the number to Diana as quickly as he could. It had to be a special case if Peter could recall the file number despite all he'd just been through. Hopefully the case held Alice's real name.  
 _  
'Riki-Tiki-Tavi.'_ Peter added quietly.

Neal furrowed his brow at the children's book reference. Riki-Tiki-Tavi was the name of a brave mongoose that chased a cobra into her nest and killed her in order to protect his adopted human family from the venomous snake. Neal went through stories of past cases that Peter had told him in his mind trying to find a connection. Before he could think of anything Alice's voice was in his ear once more.

"I'm going to assume that you were lying to Burke to make him feel better when you told him you weren't going to do as I ask."

"I was."

"Good. Safra National, get to it."

"How many..."

Neal froze as he heard a noise. He was hiding behind the counter and someone had just entered into the back dining area through the door that connected to the building lobby. Stuffing the tablet back in the shoulder bag Neal kept low as he scrambled through the open door that lead into the large kitchen. Putting his back against the wall to the side of the door he slowly stood up and risked a quick glance into the dinning room. Neal quickly jerked back with his heart suddenly in his throat when he caught sight of the intruder.

"What's going on, Caffrey?"

"Marshal." Neal whispered.

"Get out of there." Alice demanded.

"Can't."

Neal wasn't lying, there were no exits out of the kitchen other than the way he'd just come. There was a side door that acted as both an emergency exit and for bringing supplies into the kitchen, however at the moment it had the dismantled stove pulled in front of it. Neal doubted that the Fire Marshal would be happy with the set up, but that didn't help his situation right now. Neal knew he didn't have much time before the armed Federal Marshal entered the kitchen as part of his sweep. With nowhere else to go Neal quietly opened the door to the walk in freezer and stepped inside.

Closing the door behind himself Neal instantly regretted his choice of hiding places. It was pitch black in the small freezer, but he had seen when he'd walked in that there was nothing to hide behind inside it. The freezer had been turned off and everything had been removed including the shelves. He was trapped in the small space and with the heavy door it was difficult to hear what the Marshal was up to.

"Caffrey, are you about to get caught?" Alice growled.

"Yes." Neal admitted.

"Damn it, you're supposed to be better than this. You've got the gun, you're going to have to bluff your way out."

"He'll kill me." Neal whispered seriously.

"You're probably right." Alice sighed. "Hold tight, I'll fix this."

Neal had no idea how Alice was planing to fix his situation, but whatever he was going to do he'd better do it fast. Neal moved to the back of the freezer that was only about eight feet deep. He didn't want to be right at the door when the armed Marshal opened it. Sitting down on the floor he put his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat. There was still a good chance that he was about to get shot. He knew this particular Marshal and the man hated him for a variety of reasons. If he had the slightest excuse to fire he would take it.

Sitting against the warm metal wall in the stale air of the walk in freezer it was impossible for Neal not to think about how much worse Peter's situation was. Neal was feeling claustrophobic and he knew that the door was unlocked. Although opening the door would probably instantly lead to getting shot it was still better than being locked in.

Neal held his breath and pressed his back against the wall as he heard footsteps approaching. He brought his hands up a little higher in an attempt to look as non threatening as possible as the door opened a crack. He needed to be taken alive, he had information the FBI needed if they were ever going to have a chance at getting Peter back. Neal was just about to announce to the Marshal outside that he was hiding inside when the Marshal's radio crackled.

'Tony? You copy?'

"I copy. I'm just finishing up a sweep on the bakery."

'Don't bother, we just got a good tip on Caffrey, he was just spotted heading into the construction site over on 57th.'

"On my way."

Neal didn't dare breath a sigh of relief as the Marshal turned and rushed out of the kitchen. Taking the opportunity to make a move against Alice Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone he had stolen from a man that he'd bumped into on the street on his way to the bakery. He hadn't known where his next target was at the time, but now he had a plan. Neal quickly placed a coded text. He thought about texting Diana with the case number Peter had given him, but he worried about the FBI rushing in to take down Alice before they had any clue as to where Peter was. If Alice wasn't in the mood to bargain Peter could end up lost forever. Getting to his feet Neal crushing the phone under his shoe. There was a good chance that the FBI was monitoring the phone he'd just texted to and he couldn't risk them tracing him on the stolen phone he'd just used.

"What was that noise?" Alice demanded.

"Just some construction debris that I stepped on. The Marshal is gone."

"Then off you go."

"I have one demand."

"You don't get to make demands, Caffrey."

"I'm sorry, I have a request then."

"What?"

"Let Peter rest while I do this next job. Please."

"Check your tablet. He's sleeping now."

Still in the freezer Neal dug through the shoulder bag to get the tablet. Tapping on the black screen brought up an image of Peter still laying on the floor. His breathing was no longer a labored panting and he twitched slightly having fallen into a deep sleep. Peter whimpered slightly as a nightmare haunted his dreams. Neal looked at the room temperature and was relieved to see that it was a comfortable seventy-five degrees.

"Thank you."

"It's not for you, it's for him." Alice said simply. "I'm worried about his heart."

"What do you care?"

"I very much want him to live."

"You mean you want him to live with this." Neal growled angrily.

"Exactly." Alice sneered. "Agent Burke is never going to be the same."

"Then why should I keep playing your game?"

"Because you'd rather see him alive and broken with a chance at recovery than dead at your hand."

"If Peter dies it won't be my fault, it will be yours."

"I can live with that."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Hiding in the back hall that lead to the restrooms in the Safra National Neal took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. So much could go wrong so quickly with these bold daylight robberies. Glancing at his watch Neal swore under his breath, it had taken him longer to get here than he'd thought it would. Alice would be expecting to hear from him in fifteen minutes. Bank tellers were trained to avoid violence and worked to make sure that robberies went smoothly, but they still took time.

Having an idea Neal glanced around to make sure that no one was paying attention to him, there were only a few people in line over at the tellers and no one had emerged from the back offices. He had come in through the front doors and made a bee line for the back hall playing the camera angles as best he could. Usually if he was going to try to sneak in anywhere he'd do some recon first. With time very much a factor Neal pulled Peter's gun out of his jacket and double checked the clip. He had glanced at it before and true to his word Alice had loaded it with blanks.

"Probably more for in case I found him, never a good idea to hand a loaded weapon over to an enemy."

Reassured that he wasn't going to hurt anyone Neal pulled the rabbit mask out and slipped it on. Neal walked quickly out across the white marble floor. Raising the gun up over his head he fired twice at the ceiling without causing any damage. Neal had chosen the moment because the bored security guard had been distracted by looking at a young woman who was up at the teller in a skirt barely long enough to protect her modesty. Able to take everyone by surprise Neal leveled the gun at the guard to silently suggest that he not try anything.

Much like the tellers the security guards were trained to avoid violent encounters. There was a counter directly to Neal's right that gave people a place to write out their slips before stepped up to the teller. Neal grabbed the pen that was attached to the granite counter top by a thin silver chain, snapping the chain he stole the pen.

"Call the FBI." Neal demanded.

Since Alice didn't care about the money Neal figured he wouldn't even notice that all he did here was cause a scene. The 'robbery' had only taken seconds and he was able to retreat back through the offices. There were a few managers in the back that were no doubt already calling the police. Neal dashed out the back emergency exit and into the alley. Knowing there was probably a security camera in the back he kept the mask on as he raced down the alley. Before getting to the first cross street he pulled it of and put it and the gun back in the shoulder bag.

It was getting close to noon and the concrete jungle was radiating heat. The sidewalks had a smattering of pedestrians, but most people were still keeping in doors. Neal forced himself to reduce his speed to a quick paced walk as he left the alley to avoid attention. He could hear police sirens coming from the south as they responded to the incident in the bank. Neal glanced back at his watch, he prayed that Mozzie not only got his message but that he was in a position to be on time.

Neal walked as quickly as he dared a few blocks up until he came to construction site. Slipping through the gate he snatched a hard hat from the stock of them that was provided for visitors. The combination of nice suit, hard hat, and a purposeful walk gave the impression of being someone from cooperate rather than a city inspector. Instead of challenging him the first few people who saw him scattered to go let their bosses know something was going on with the guys who signed the paychecks. The site was just a convenient short cut and after passing through the half finished lower level he left through the far gate.

Breaking back into a run Neal made his way to Mozzie's 'Tuesday' home, which was actually underground in part of an abandoned subway tunnel. How Mozzie managed to find these places, let alone get electricity and running water, was a mystery. Neal was just grateful that he had somewhere he could hide and catch his breath. The access was a door built into the abandoned cellar of a four star restaurant meaning Neal first had to break into the kitchen to get down there.

With the lunch rush upon them the kitchen workers were far to busy to even care about the stranger making his way quickly through the chaotic scene. Neal was often amazed by how easy it was to be somewhere you shouldn't if you just walked with enough confidence. If you looked lost or nervous people would often question you, but if you just looked like you felt like you belonged they often minded their own business. It didn't work in every situation, but it worked in enough of them.

Hurrying down the stairs to the cellar below Neal picked his way through the old equipment that was being stored there. He had just reached Mozzie's door when the phone that Alice had given him rang. Neal pounded on Mozzie's door and it was quickly opened. The phone continued to ring but he couldn't answer it right now. He would just have to hope that Alice bought his story as to why he didn't pick up the first time.

"Neal..." Mozzie greeted anxiously. "What's going on? You alright? You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."

"Moz, do you have what I asked for?" Neal asked as he invited himself into the odd apartment.

"Of course."

Mozzie gestured over to the kitchen table. Neal rushed over and grabbed the black electrical tape first. Using his teeth to break off a two inch strip of tape Neal put the shoulder bag on the table. Reaching inside the bag with the tape he kept the flap was closed as possible. Feeling around the edge of the tablet he found the web camera and secured the tape over it. With the camera neutralized he pulled out the tablet and looked for the tiny microphone set into the side. Using the pen he'd stolen from the bank Neal ruined the microphone as well. Putting the tablet aside Neal picked a similar tablet that Mozzie had waiting on the table. Throwing it to the ground he stepped on it to shatter the front glass.

"Hey." Mozzie protested.

"I'll buy you a new one."

"Neal, what is going on?"

Neal was about to give Mozzie a short explanation when the phone rang again. Neal didn't dare let it go unanswered this time. He dug out the blue tooth and secured it in his ear. Before answering he picked up the plastic packet of deep red syrup off the table. Faking an injury was often a good way to garner sympathy from a mark and he and Mozzie had used the con a few times in the past. Neal had banked on Mozzie still having some fake blood left over. Tearing open the packet with his teeth Neal opened his jacket and soaked his shirt low over his rib cage. The phone had rung three times and the last time Alice had only let it ring five.

"Mozzie, I need to you be absolutely silent. Not a word, not a sound."

Mozzie just nodded.

"Thank you."

Neal pulled out the phone and hit the contact that would open the call. Winching and doubling over to help him play the part Neal growled in pain and panted heavily. Already struggling with a twisted stomach from anxiety it wasn't hard to gag before audibly working on catching his breath and whimpering again.

"Caffery?" Alice asked suspiciously. "Heat getting to you?"

"I...I got shot." Neal snarled.

"Shot?" Alice repeated doubtfully. "Security guards at that bank have tazers not guns."

"It was a civilian, some 'hero' at Safra with a concealed weapon."

"Conceal and carry is a hard license to get in New York city."

"I didn't ask to see his permit." Neal hissed before moaning in exaggerated pain.

"How bad is it? I'm not done with you yet."

"It's a through and through flesh wound, I can still do whatever you want, but I'm going to need more time." Neal stopped to catch his breath. "This is going to slow me down."

"Get the tablet out, I want to see."

"You don't believe me?"

"No, I really don't."

"Fine. Hang on."

Neal grit his teeth and made a show of sitting down against the wall so that he could dig out the tablet. The visual act wasn't really necessary but it helped him sell the sounds scape. Having forgotten the broken tablet on the table Neal pointed to it and Mozzie quickly grabbed it and quietly handed it over before backing away. Neal smiled a silent thank you.

"Damn it." Neal sighed in frustration. "It's shattered, I fell on the bag when I got hit. The tablet's ruined."

"I swear to God, Caffrey, if you are playing with me I will go and murder Burke with my bare hands and make you listen!" Alice spat.

"I'm not playing with you, I wouldn't dare." Neal shifted his weight and gasped in pain. "I...I have done everything you asked, I am a con artist not a bank robber, I told you carrying a weapon would only lead to trouble."

"Open the 'face time' on the phone. I want proof of this 'broken wing' of yours."

Neal had assumed that Alice wouldn't be easily tricked. He made sure that it was difficult to tell where he was by holding the phone close before opening the 'face time' app. Alice had something blocking his side of the video as Neal stared into the black screen. It wasn't difficult to look in pain, he was already drenched in sweat and exhausted. Holding his free hand against his lower ribs as if to stop the bleeding Neal showed off the sticky red stain. He paned down to the broken tablet in his lap briefly, making sure to keep the brand name out of the frame since they were different. After the quick show he raised the phone back up to glare into it.

"Satisfied?" Neal asked wearily.

"The tablet was just for visual motivation for you anyway."

"I am well aware of the situation."

"I need you at the address I'm texting you in twenty minutes. Can you make it?"

Neal closed the 'face time' app as the text came up. Furrowing his brow at the odd address he flashed it to Mozzie. Mozzie read the address and just shrugged. Neal got up and grabbed the burner phone that Mozzie had waiting for him on the table. He put the address in and discovered it was down by the docks district.

"Well, Caffrey?"

"I need more time. I can't run like this and I can't imagine a taxi picking me up until I get cleaned up which is going to mean taking the time to steal some new clothes and medical sup..."

"Forty-five minutes. Be there."

"I will."

"Keep the ear piece on, I want to hear what you're up to."

"Okay." Neal agreed. "Peter..."

"I'll keep the room a good temperature for him."

"Thank you."

"Don't bleed out on your way."

"I'll try not to."

Neal could hear Alice putting the phone down with a slight 'clunk' noise and then there was silence even though the call didn't end. He had probably left it on speaker and placed it on mute so that he could listen but not be heard. Going over to the real tablet Neal tapped on the screen to show Mozzie what was going on. Mozzie's eyes widen in horror at the sight of Peter laying on the metal floor. He had woken up, and was trying to use the blood that ran from his wrist to help him slip the cuffs with no real chance at success.

Neal was just about to write a note to Mozzie when he noticed the temperature set point on the display sudden take a sharp dive that didn't stop until it hit zero. Neal managed to stay quiet, he couldn't complain to Alice about not keeping his promise since he wasn't supposed to have the tablet any more. He needed Alice to think the tablet destroyed so that he could leave it with Mozzie so that he could hopefully trace the video feed. Putting Mozzie's burner phone in his pocket after setting it to vibrate Neal growled in pain to keep Alice from getting suspicious from the sudden silence. Picking up the bank pen Neal pulled a sheet of paper closer and scrawled out a short message that he left for Mozzie to read.  
 _  
'Find him.'_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Almost..."

Peter growled to himself as he continued to work at freeing himself from the handcuffs. His wrists were already bleeding heavily and his hope was that the blood would make his hands slick enough to pull through. They hadn't placed the cuffs on particularly tightly so he figured that he had a fairly good chance, plus he didn't have anything else productive to do with his time.

When the all too familiar chill returned to the air Peter yanked more desperately against the metal restraints. It wouldn't make any difference against the cold, but he didn't want to die with his hands bounds. At this point he was willing to break his hand in sacrifice of that goal. With one bone already cracked in his right hand from punching at the one way mirror Peter concentrated his efforts on that side. With a roar a pain and effort Peter tore his right wrist free.

Sitting up Peter cradled his injured wrist against his chest. He had torn a great deal of skin but had managed to escape without further injury to the bones. Pulling off his tie Peter wrapped it around his wrist and hand to help stop the bleeding. Tying it off he used his teeth to pull it tight. He didn't bother with the cuff dangling from his left wrist, that would just have to stay there for now.

Getting back to his knees to avoid the metal floor that was already starting to freeze Peter looked around the small space. He wasn't really expecting to see any new options for escape, but he was still disheartened when he didn't find one. Having fallen asleep earlier Peter wasn't sure how much time had passed but considering he was just starting to become thirsty he doubted that he'd been trapped more than eight to ten hours. Trying to decide what his next move should be Peter jolted slightly when the speaker that was in the corner behind the glass suddenly squawked to life with a cry of pain.

"Neal?" Peter asked concerned.

"Your boy isn't doing so well." Alice chuckled.

Peter's stomach turned as Neal continued to pant heavily in pain. Struggling to catch his breath Neal degraded into a violent dry heaving. Peter had no way of knowing that what he was listening to now was actually from earlier in the day after Neal's first forced run when he'd just been sick from the exertion and heat. Mixed in with the audio from when Neal had faked an injury it gave the impression that he was grievously injured.

"Neal..."

"He should have listened to you." Alice continued. "His last little job for me didn't go as planed."

"What did you do to him?" Peter demanded.

"I didn't do anything. He got himself shot. But, he's being a good sport about it, he's still willing to play to save you."

"Damn it, Neal, get to a hospital before you go into shock!" Peter ordered.

"He can't hear you. Even if he could it's clear that he's going to kill himself trying to find you anyway."

"Don't give him that choice, please, just tell the FBI where he is, they will go get him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because Neal has nothing to do with what happened between us, Alistair."

"So you do remember me."

"Of course I remember you."

"You've become a lot more invested in your CIs lately, but you still haven't gotten any better at keeping them safe."

"I saved your life."

"You left me behind!"

"You ran away." Peter corrected. "We shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. You were trying to use one side against the other and got caught. I am sorry for what happened, but if you had just trusted me..."

"Don't you dare!" Alistair snarled. "Don't you dare try to blame me, it was your job to protect me and you failed miserably!"

Peter didn't bother arguing further knowing that it would just incite Alistair further. It had been nearly ten years since the operation that had gone tragically wrong, but it was still fresh in Peter's memory. Alistair Price had been a money laundering middle man with dreams of climbing the organized crime ladder by first tearing down the competition. He had thought that he could use the FBI to do the heavy lifting by claiming to be on the inside of a racketeering circle that was cutting into his boss's business. Believing that he was dealing with someone that had in-depth insider knowledge Peter had agreed to going under cover with him.

By the time Peter realized that Alistair was making up most of what he was saying as he went along it was far too late. They were in the middle of the hornet's nest when their cover was blown. The FBI had been listening in and a massive raid ensued as soon as they knew their Agent was in trouble, but the enemy was well armed with far more men than the bad intel from Alistair had prepared them for. In the chaos that followed Peter still didn't know exactly how he'd managed to get out without getting caught in the cross fire.

Peter had tried to keep Alistair with him during the confusion of the raid, and he nearly succeeded. In the end however the terrified young CI had ran off in attempt to save his own skin. Alistair escaped the building and the FBI, but when his own boss learned that he had gone to the FBI he threw him back to the wolves and handed him directly over to the rival gang that he had tried to destroy. Not ones to take being ratted out lightly they tortured him for days before leaving him in a broken down warehouse walk in freezer to die slowly. Peter had called in absolutely every last favor that he had and spent five solid days hunting for Alistair until he found him. The last he'd known Alistair had been placed in WITSEC.

Peter hadn't been given any details on how well Alistair had faired after his ordeal, but he been there when Alistair had been found and at the time he had been close to death but even closer to insanity. Whatever he had gone through it had been apparent even at his rescue that he was never going to be the same again. It had always haunted Peter that he hadn't been able to keep Alistair safe, even if the man had set them both up to fail from the start.

Starting to shiver again Peter tried to figure out a way that he could at least get Neal out of this alive. There had to be a reason why Alistair had chosen now to risk such a brazen attack, Peter suspected that this had all been planed carefully, but it wouldn't be something that required ten years worth of scheming. Already weak and with the temperature quickly approaching zero Peter found himself effected by the cold much quicker than before. Having trouble keeping his thoughts on track Peter flinched as Alistair played him another audio clip of Neal fighting against his injury.

"Alistair, please, don't take this out on Neal. Let him go."

"I haven't touched him, he's made every decision to participate on his own. I have nothing against him personally, he's just another causality of your career."

"Why now?" Peter asked heavily. "It's been ten years."

"Well..." Alistair chuckled darkly "you know what they say about revenge."

"Don't you dare say it..."

"It's a dish best served cold."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Keeping his hand on his side to remind himself that he was supposed to be in pain Neal paced the confines of Mozzie's underground apartment. He hated just waiting but he didn't want to leave towards the address the Alice had sent him in case Mozzie found Peter and he was in the opposite direction. It had only been about ten minutes but it was getting increasingly difficult to be idle. He'd taken off his jacket but was still wearing the syrup and red dye soaked shirt.

Neal had watched as Peter had torn his wrist free from the metal cuffs and then had obviously become involved in an argument with Alice. There was no sound but the way Peter had jolted to attention with a fearful expression told Neal that Alice was probably taunting him with audio of him feigning injury. Growing increasingly anxious Neal snarled angrily in pent up frustration as he quickened his pacing. Remembering that Alice was listening in Neal panted heavily before whimpering sharply between clenched teeth.

Mozzie looked up from the laptop that he had wired into the tablet, watching Peter quickly decline in the cold on the tablet and dealing with Neal's nervous energy was making his job more difficult. He pulled a piece of paper closer and scribbled on it before holding it up for Neal to read. Neal paused his pointless back and forth to read the message.  
 _  
'You're not helping.'_

 _'Sorry.'_ Neal mouthed silently.

Mozzie gave Neal a sympathetic look before he shooed him away with a quick gesture. Neal understood, it took a lot of concentration to hack into a system while at the same time making sure that you weren't discovered. Taking out the phone Alice had given him Neal glanced at the time, he couldn't wait around much longer anyway. Heading off into the bathroom Neal turned the sink on cold and bowed his head under the running water. After getting the sweat out of his hair he just let it drip dry while he worked on getting the fake blood off his hands. Pulling off the ruined shirt he growled as though cleaning a proper wound as he cleaned the sticky simulated gore of his stomach.

"How you holding up, Caffrey?" Alice voice suddenly asked.

"Not great." Neal said honestly.

"You could always go to a hospital."

"If you tell the FBI where Peter is I'll head to the nearest ER."

"Nice try." Alice said. "Are you really willing to die trying to find him?"

"If that's what it takes."

"He wouldn't do the same for you."

"Yes he would." Neal replied without hesitation.

"Just get down to the docks." Alice snarled.

"Alice, obviously you and Peter have a past, but he doesn't deserve what you're doing to him now." Neal pressed seeing that he had hit a nerve. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."

"I will sleep better at night knowing that he can't."

"You're psychotic." Neal growled in frustration.

"I know...ten years of nightmares will do that to you."

Neal gave up on trying to reason with Alice, he didn't have the mentality of someone who could be reasoned with. Anyone who went to this length to enact a ten year grudge was beyond such measures. Neal pulled a towel off the near by rack and buried his face in it for a moment. Nearing exhaustion he couldn't even begin to piece together why Alice's revenge also included having him running around holding up banks.

"Caffrey? I'm getting tired of waiting and so is Burke."

"I'm on my way." Neal sighed in defeat.

When Neal came out of the bathroom he stole one of Mozzie's white undershirts out of his closet and pulled it on. Stepping out into the main room Mozzie looked up at him with an expression that caused Neal's already painful stomach to twist further. Neal rushed up to the table that Mozzie had set everything up on and looked down at the tablet.

With his system already stressed from the hours of captivity Peter was succumbing to the cold faster than before. Unable to stay on his knees Peter was laying on his side curled up tightly. He shivered violently in waves with lengthening rests in between attacks as he ran out of energy to react to the dropping temperature. Neal put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes to reduce the temptation to beg Alice to stop. Despite his early words it was clear Alice had no real intention of letting Peter go. All Neal could really do now was play along and pray that there was still time for Mozzie to find him. Neal grabbed the paper and pen to write to Mozzie.

'How much longer?' Neal asked.

Looking guilty Mozzie could only shrug, he didn't look confident in his ability to find Peter in time. Convinced that he was playing a game he couldn't win Neal decided it was time to set the FBI on Alice's trail. He hadn't wanted to tip the FBI off early knowing that they would go straight for Alice and possibly remove any chance of finding Peter, but with the way things were going if he waited any longer Peter was going to die and Alice was going to get away. This way if he didn't manage to save Peter at the very least he could stop Alice.

Taking out one of Mozzie's burner phones Neal texted Diana both versions of the case number that Peter had relayed to him. As an after thought he added 'Riki-Tiki-Tavi', he didn't know what it meant but Peter had seemed to think it was important. Hitting send on the text Neal dropped the phone and stepped on it. He could have just as easily taken the battery out, but he needed something to take his aggression out on. Neal risked taking out Alice's phone and pressed mute for a moment.

"Keep looking for Peter, if you find him text the address to me and the FBI, tell them to bring paramedics. I'm going to the docks to try and stall with Alice."

"Be careful, Neal. Don't actually get yourself shot."

"Don't worry about me, worry about finding Peter."

Mozzie just nodded as he turned back to his computer. Neal turned the volume back on the phone and headed towards the door. He grabbed another burner phone from Mozzie's vast collection. In his rush he left the shoulder bag that he'd been saddled with all day behind. Stepping back out onto afternoon streets of mid-summer New York was like walking into a furnace. Neal wasn't sure if the heat had actually soared or if was just the break he'd had down in the dark cool underground apartment that made it feel so much worse.

Neal had left his jacket downstairs with Mozzie but he decided against going after it. Looking around Neal had hoped to find a cab somewhere in the area, however with the heat less people were willing to walk making taxis even scarcer than usual. Resigning himself to another grueling trek through the city Neal broke into a fast paced jog towards the wharf district using as many back alleys and low traffic areas as he could manage.

It took Neal nearly half an hour to arrive at the address Alice had given him which turned out to be a small container shipping yard along a lonely stretch of docks that had fallen into disrepair. Neal looked around the oddly abandoned area. There was a medium sized warehouses off to the left that had more broken out windows than intact ones. The concrete pavement had cracked and small shoots of grass were forcing their way through. The yard itself had fifty to a hundred stacked shipping containers that held rust stains running through the copious amounts of graffiti that decorated their sides. There weren't many abandon sites in New York, but the ones that existed held a certain decaying haunting beauty to them.

"Alice?" Neal asked. "I'm here."

Neal waited but didn't get a response. With sweat sticking his shirt to his skin Neal welcomed a slight breeze that came over the river. A few minutes passed and he was just about to call for Alice again when the bluetooth in his ear crackled to life. Neal's blood ran cold as he heard an angry shout of 'FBI' in the background combined with the sounds of someone trying to break down a sturdy door. Neal was surprised they had found Alice so quickly until he remembered he'd already set Diana on making an enemy list. Alice had probably been on it already and on their radar when he'd sent the second text with the case number.

"Alice, Alice you need to give up right now, they will shoot you." Neal warned. "Can you hear me?"

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Alice snarled at him suddenly. "Stalling so the FBI could find me? I know this was you...I would have let him go..."

"Alice, tell me where he is!" Neal demanded angrily. "It all ends right now if he dies! You said it yourself that you wanted him to live with this, so let him! Please!"

"You're so..."

Neal's heart jumped into his throat as he heard the door splinter as the FBI team stormed Alice's location. There was angry shouting from both sides as the strike team descended upon their target. When the distinct crack of gun fire sliced through the chaos Neal's knee suddenly gave out on him and he ended up dropped to his knees on the burning rust stained concrete.

"No!" Neal cried. "Alice! Alice!"

He didn't know who had started who had started the fire fight, but it didn't matter he knew who would end it. Alice would be out gunned and out classed. In situations like this law enforcement couldn't risk shooting to wound, they needed to kill before any of their own team was injured or killed. As it was Neal's stomach twisted as he caught the tell tale cry of 'Agent down' in the mist of the noise. The battle didn't last long and the sudden silence afterward told Neal everything he needed to know about the scene. Already on his knees Neal sat back on his heels and bowed his head in exhausted defeat for a moment. With Alice dead Peter's own chance of survival had just been severely diminished.

"You can't give up now, Peter's still alive you just have to find him." Neal reminded himself. "Come on, get up."

Fatigue and stress had taken most of Neal's strength already, the unrelenting heat was chipping away at what was left. It took him several tries to get back to his feet, once he was up he looked around at the desolate scene. Alice must have sent him here for a reason, he wanted something more. Neal wasn't sure that figuring out that something would help him find Peter, but it was as good as any place to start.

Looking over at the warehouse Neal picked up his pace and made his way over to the metal door. The windows were all up high so he couldn't look in. Putting his ear up to the door to listen Neal realized that he still had the bluetooth in his ear, he had just gotten used to wearing it. The call had ended shortly after the firefight had, Neal assumed that Alice had set off some sort of timed event that fried the electronics in his den to keep the FBI from finding their stolen Agent. Neal reached up to take out the bluetooth but was distracted when his pocket vibrated. Pulling out the burner phone Neal read a text from Mozzie that held the same address that Alice had just sent him to.

It took Neal a second to understand before he realized that Mozzie must have tracked the video feed here. Revitalized by an adrenaline surge Neal threw his shoulder into the metal warehouse door before he even tried the lock. The heavy door was unaffected by Neal's assault. Before he beat himself against the door again he tested the lock and the door swung open freely.

Without thinking about the fact that there might be someone other than Peter inside Neal rushed into the warehouse. No one was inside the gutted building, but there was evidence that someone had been there recently. There was card table set up off to the side with a pair of chairs that had a variety of trash from a take out meal, they had most likely been lackey's that Alice had sent away once he'd pointed Neal in this direction. Neal just glanced at the table, it was the large steel box built into the back corner with the obvious refrigeration unit attached to it that caught his full attention. The rusted nature of the metal gave Neal the impression that it had been part of the original structure although the motor unit looked added on. Racing up to the door that held a heavy pad lock Neal pounded against it.

"Peter!" Neal cried desperately. "Peter!"

Neal didn't wait long for any signs of life, he just wanted Peter to know he was here if he was still awake. Looking at the lock Neal knew he had no hope of breaking it and he didn't have any of his lock picks with him. The metal that the padlock was attached to was brand new as well and reinforced, the same could not be said for the actual hinges of the small door. Casting about in the debris that littered the floor Neal found a short length of metal pipe. Slamming the top of the pipe against the pin in the top hinge at an angle easily removed it. Using the same trick to the bottom hinge caused the door to fall free, attached only by the pad lock.

The cold rush of air that washed over Neal was admittedly refreshing to him despite what it meant for Peter. Laying on his back on the icy metal floor Peter wasn't even attempting to shield himself from the cold. Rushing into the small space Neal slipped on the icy surface and landed hard on his shoulder. Scrambling to his knees he pressed his fingertips against Peter's throat. Peter's skin was shockingly cold compared to Neal's over heated touch, but there was a weak slow pulse. Suddenly jerking awake with a painful gasp Peter opened his eyes and stared up fearfully at Neal.

"Peter..."

"N...Neal?" Peter slurred with a tone of uncertainly.

"I'm here." Neal assured. "Come on, we need to move."

Peter's eyes rolled back to white but he nodded slightly in agreement. Despite trying to get up none of Peter's motions were coordinated enough to even help Neal get him to his feet. In fact he was making things more difficult as he senselessly fought against rescue. Needing to get Peter off the frozen metal floor Neal just hooked his hands under Peter's arms and forcibly dragged him out onto the warm concrete warehouse floor.

Getting out of the Arctic environment didn't improve Peter condition as quickly as Neal would have liked. With his core temperature dropped dangerously low he was fighting for each breath as he clawed at the dirty floor. Hoping that what he'd heard about hypothermia from the movies was at least partially correct Neal pulled off his sweat soaked shirt before tearing open the front of Peter's to expose his skin. Sitting him up Neal gathered Peter into a tight embraced to press his heated skin against Peter's icy flesh in a desperate attempt to transfer some of his warmth to him.

Peter didn't protest the treatment intentionally but he arched back as he struggled in vain to control his own movements. Neal held him tighter to keep him from falling back. Peter started to try and say something but Neal couldn't understand him as his attempt at words just degraded into repeating the first syllable of a word. Neal reached up behind Peter's head and encouraged him to rest his forehead against his throat to increase their skin contact. Peter nestled against Neal and became peaceful for a brief moment. Neal closed his eyes against the sting of tears as Peter begame jerking spasmodically in his arms as his condition continued to deteriorate.

"Help will be here soon." Neal said more to himself than to Peter. "At least I hope it will be."

Fearing that Peter might die at any moment without medical attention Neal reached into his pocket and fished out the phone that Alice had given him. He was still wearing the bluetooth so he just dialed Mozzie's number and put the phone down so that he could wrap his arm around Peter's lower back again. The phone only rang once before it was picked up.

"Neal? Is that you? Did you find him?"

"Mozzie, please, please tell me help is on the way." Neal begged.

"I got that address just before I lost the video feed, I sent it to the Suits and told them to bring paramedics. I got a reply instantly, so they are on their way. Is Peter okay?"

Neal was about to answer when Peter convulsed sickeningly. His skin felt warmer but it didn't seem to be helping. Neal vaguely recalled something about 'rewarming shock', but he didn't know exactly what it entailed or how to stop it. With his blood pressure bottoming out Peter lost consciousness again. When Peter relaxed completely Neal was forced to lay him down again to reassess his condition. Pressing against his throat again Neal couldn't find a pulse, but his own hand was shaking so hard that he couldn't be sure.

"Peter?" Neal pressed his ear against Peter's chest for a moment before jerking back in alarm. "Peter!"

"Neal? What's going on?"

"Mozzie, help us, he's not breathing. Peter's not breathing..."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"Agent down!"

"No...no, I'm good." Jones groaned.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah...just...need a minute." Jones replied weakly as he tried to sit up. "Damn that hurts."

"Just breathe." Diana suggested.

"Working on it..."

Diana searched out the slug that was embedded in the bullet proof vest that Jones was wearing. This time when he refused to stay down she helped him to his feet. EMTs and additional law enforcement were already swarming the small apartment in a chaotic storm. There was a great deal of confusion between Jones getting shot, the brief fire fight, Alistair being taken down, and the smoke from some sort of device that he had set off to destroy his myriad computer devices.

"Anything broken?" Diana asked Jones in concern.

"I don't think so, just bruised."

Ignoring his own pain Jones looked around the tiny mostly unfurnished apartment of full of destroyed electronics with dismay. Diana was having the same thought, it didn't take more than a glance around the studio to see that Peter wasn't being held here. Unlike the sadistic show Neal had been watching the FBI hadn't been given any kind of proof of life. Either Alistair had Peter elsewhere, had already murdered him, or there was always a chance that the tip was bad in the first place and Alistair was up to some other random criminal activity and the real kidnapers had just used the FBI to take down some competition. Diana was just about to ask Jones what he felt they should do next when her phone chirped with another text. Pulling out the phone she furrowed her brow.

"Diana?"

"Unknown number again, it's an address down by the docks."

"Same tipper? Think it's Neal and he's found Peter?"

"Or Moz..." Diana paused as the phone chirped again. "'Hurry, bring paramedic, Suit down.'."

"Definitely Mozzie. Let's go."

Diana rounded up five of the ten Agents that were present, and three of the LEOs to help with back up. There was secondary paramedic team waiting street level that she ordered to follow along. They had no idea what would really be waiting for them at the address. Roaring through the city they made their ways as quickly as they could towards the docks, but with traffic it took a good fifteen minutes that felt like an eternity. As they approached they had all the vehicles turn off their lights and sirens. Minutes before their arrival Diana's phone chirped again.

"'All clear, just get in there.'." Diana read out loud.

Despite the 'all clear' they approached the warehouse cautiously with weapons drawn. With his vest ruined by the previous shot he'd taken Jones should have hung back but Diana didn't say anything when he stepped up to help her cover the rusty metal door that was slightly ajar. The rest of the team took up flanking positions. Diana held up her hand to request everyone hold for a moment while she listened for some clue as to what they were about to walk in on. The only sound was an oddly rhythmic panting that sounded like someone in pain trying to catch their breath. When Diana gave Jones a quick nod he kicked the door fully open and the team swarmed the warehouse, preparing to take it by force if need be.

"FBI!"

Diana had barked the warning in case anyone was thinking of challenging them. The scene however held no immediate threats. Stripped from the waist up with sweat rolling off his skin Neal was kneeling over Peter desperately throwing all of his effort into pushing down on Peter's chest. There was blood dripping down the side of Neal's face from where he'd hit the pavement earlier that morning, the steristrips had long since fallen off allowing the wound to bleed freely again. Neal glanced up at Diana, but he didn't bother calling out for help. In fact he barely reacted to their arrival at all, he just went back to concentrating on the chest compressions. Quality CPR was an energetic work out that quickly exhausted even a well trained rescuer. Trying to administer at least a 100 compressions per minute was no simple task and under ideal conditions rescuers traded off compression work every two minutes to help avoid fatigue. Neal had been keeping Peter alive for almost twenty minute on his own and was nearing collapse himself.

Diana let Jones take over on ensuring the area remained secure while she alerted the paramedics that they could enter. Already standing at the ready at the door the medical team was ready to pounce. The first task was pulling Neal away from his still critical patient. Acting like he didn't understand that help had arrived it took the firm hand of one of the paramedics to force Neal back. Once relieved of his task Neal sat down heavily on the concrete floor panting heavily for breath with a slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"Neal?" Diana asked concerned.

"I...I think I broke his ribs..." Neal whispered in horror.

"That just means you're doing it right." The paramedic informed seriously. "We'll take it from here, you did good. Take a break."

Neal just nodded and the paramedic eyed him suspiciously for a moment but his attention was drawn away when one of the other three paramedics called for his help. They were already busy continuing CPR and setting up the AED. It hadn't take them more than a brief assessment to realize they were dealing with a complicated hypothermic case despite the record summer heat. The freezer with the broken door was still working although now that it was open the ice had melted as the hot air rushed in. The fourth paramedic turned to help the others get a rhythm leaving Diana to attend to Neal.

Diana encouraged Neal to back up further to allow the paramedics more room to work. Rather than get all the way to his feet Neal just rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled about ten feet away before sitting back down. Diana followed him and knelt down in front of him with increasing concern, Neal was looking less lucid by the second. His skin that had been dripping in sweat a minute ago had suddenly gone oddly dry and laced in crystalline salt. He swallowed convulsively a few times against an obviously dry throat.

"Neal?" Diana snapped her fingers when Neal didn't respond to his name. "Neal? You with me?"

Still fighting for breath Neal slowly tilted his head back and stared blankly at the rusting ceiling, completely ignoring Diana's attempts to gain his attention. When she put her hand on his shoulder she was shocked by the amount of heat that was radiating off his skin. Neal jerked away from her before clumsily lashing out at nothing in particular. Trying to get to his feet Neal quickly crashed back to the floor with a cry of pain.

"Neal!"

Jones was already rushing over to help as Neal thrashed in an uncoordinated attempt to get back up while Diana tried to keep him calm. The fourth paramedic that had spoken to Neal before looked over his shoulder and instantly recognized that they had now had two critical patients. They still didn't have a rhythm on Peter and were preparing to move him while continuing CPR. In hypothermic cases it was protocol to only shock the heart once before giving in in favor of getting the patient warm before forcing the heart to work. One of the local cops that had come as back up stepped forward as having basic EMT training and took on the paramedic's position to allow him to switch his focus. Crying out again Neal fought bitterly against Jones and Diana for a moment before passing out.

"Heat stroke." The paramedic announced without even needing to touch him. "Get him in the freezer, we need to bring his temp down now."

Jones winced from his bruised chest but he lifted Neal up off the floor and carried him into the freezer that he'd fought all day to free Peter from. Diana stepped inside the small space as Jones laid Neal out on the cold wet metal floor. Diana's blood chilled at the thought of waking trapped in the claustrophobic box. The grate in the far corner was pushing out freezing air as it tried to battle against the heat loss from the broken door. Severely dehydrated and overheating Neal twitched sickeningly as his muscles cramped in response to the electrolyte imbalance.

"Stay with Peter," Diana told Jones "I'll stay with Neal."

Jones nodded and stepped out to allow the paramedic inside. Armed with a towel and a bag of IV fluids the paramedic gave the towel to Diana. Not needing any instruction Diana knelt down and soaked the towel in the condensation and melt on the floor and used the wet cloth to try to wick some of the heat away from Neal's skin. After sinking the IV needle in the back of Neal's hand the paramedic held the bag over his head to allow gravity to drip the fluids into Neal's blood.

Diana continued to cool Neal off with the towel while the paramedic kept close tabs on his general condition. It didn't take very long for him to start breathing easier as the environment that had threatened to kill Peter worked to save him. Diana was cleaning the salt off Neal's arm when she suddenly noticed a small splash of bright blue staining the outside edge of his wrist. Diana stared at the damning stain that directly connected Neal to the bank robbery for a full minute before she used the towel to try and remove it. It quickly became clear that it would take a lot more than just water to clean it away.

"I have something that will take that off of there if you want..." The paramedic used his free hand to fish around in his pockets until he found a few individually wrapped pads. "Here you go."

"Uh...thank you." Diana took the packages and opened one.

"Bank dye is notoriously stubborn, but that stuff will take the stripes off a tiger."

Looking up at the paramedic with a guilty expression Diana hesitated to remove the evidence, she had been hoping that the man didn't know what the stain was. The paramedic smiled at her warmly.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." He assured. "I know how it is, you gotta protect your own."

"Something like that."

Diana looked down at Neal. She hadn't ever really considered him to be one of them, but there was no denying that Peter would have most likely died if he hadn't gone rouge. If they had taken much longer getting down to the docks there was also a high probability that they would have lost them both. Neal had literally run himself into the ground working to save Peter. Using the powerful smelling adhesive remover that the paramedic had given her Diana destroyed the evidence that would have automatically sent Neal back to prison. There was still no guarantee that he wouldn't just end up there anyway, but at least this way he'd have reasonable doubt of his guilt. Diana made sure there was no other dye on Neal before putting the now blue cleaning pad into her pocket.

"I've never seen a case of hypo and hyperthermia right next to one another like this." The paramedic mused conversationally.

"If they survive it the irony of the situation will not be lost on them." Diana replied with a slight smile. "They practically pride themselves in being opposites."

"We've got your Agent on his way to the hospital and another ambulance on route here, but right now this is actually the best place for him. In fact he probably wouldn't have survived if this wasn't here."

"He'll be okay?"

"He's going to wake with one hell of a headache, but he should be okay."

"What about Peter? Did you get his heart started?"

"No, but he still has a fighting chance. When it comes to hypothermia no one is dead until they are warm and dead."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Slowly waking up Neal instantly regretted his body's decision to regain consciousness. Beyond the literally blinding headache there didn't seem to be a single muscle that wasn't activity protesting its treatment over the past twenty-four hours. Closing his eyes Neal started to take stock in his situation but quickly decided it was easier to just assume that everything hurt.

Trying to piece together his somewhat broken memory Neal jolted awake when everything suddenly flooded back to him. The last thing he remembered was that help had arrived, but he didn't know if it had been in time. Sitting up with with a sharp gasp he found his left wrist restrained. Still disoriented he jerked violently on the metal cuff like a fox trying to pull his paw free of a snare.

"Easy, Neal. Calm down."

"Diana?"

Neal looked over to where Diana was sitting on a couch in the small hospital room looking like she desperately needed some sleep. Relaxing somewhat Neal stopped trying to free himself as he leaned back against the elevated head of the hospital bed and looked to Diana. Too tired to get up Diana just flashed him a weary smile.

"You thought I was going to go somewhere?" Neal asked glancing down at the metal cuff.

"No." Diana shook her head. "Just hospital policy."

"Is Peter okay?" Neal asked nervously.

"He's alive."

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"It's too early to tell if there are going to be any lasting effects from what happened."

"How could there not be? Even if he pulls through medically..." Neal didn't finish the thought. "Is he conscious? Does he know where he is?"

"He woke once, briefly, he was agitated and delusional. He was panicked that you'd been shot and needed to be found and we couldn't convinced him otherwise. The doctor gave him something, he's been out ever since."

"He wasn't delusional, he would have ever reason to believe that I was shot." Neal closed his eyes for a moment against the brutal headache. "It's...a long story."

"I honestly don't think I should hear it. The less I know about your kidnapping the better for everyone really."

"My kidnapping?"

"Traumatic amnesia...it's common." Diana got to her feet and stepped closer so that she could lower her voice. "You should give it a try."

"What?"

"Or I can arrest you for slipping your anklet if you'd like."

"No, no, I'm perfectly happy with not being under arrest." Neal assured quickly as he finally caught on.

"I thought so." Diana smiled.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, you might actually be safer in prison. Peter is not going to be happy with you."

"I know." Neal nodded. "Can I see him or do I have to stay here?"

"Can you walk?"

"I won't know till I try."

"Fair enough." Diana fished the key out of her pocket and undid the handcuff that was keeping Neal attached to the bed rail.

"Is Elizabeth here?" Neal asked as he rubbed at his freed wrist.

"She got here a few hours ago, her flight had been delayed by weather. She's with Peter."

"How is she holding up?"

"As well as can be expected." Diana replied. "It's been long day for her."

"I can't imagine." Neal said as he experimented with sitting on the edge of the bed. "Any time she was in the air she wouldn't have been able to get any updates."

"She didn't even know we'd found him until she touched down in LaGuardia, two hours after we'd brought you two here."

"How long have I been out?"

"About six hours."

Still just sitting on the edge of the bed with his head pounding Neal waited another minute for his stomach to settle. The taxing day mixed with the dehydration was making getting back to his feet an unpleasant prospect, but he wanted to see Peter. Standing up he reached out and grabbed the IV pole for some support, it had to come with him anyway since it was attached to the needle in his arm. They were dripping a bright yellow fluid into his blood that looked suspiciously like Gatorade.

Diana offered him her hand to help him remain steady which he accepted. Diana reached over and unplugged the IV machine that was on the pole so that Neal could take it with him, it would run on battery for an hour or so. Diana slowly helped Neal towards the large open sliding glass door of the ICU room. The nurse on duty had been keeping a close eye on them, but didn't interfere. Halfway to the door Neal misstepped but Diana caught him around the waist to keep him standing.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"I'm not really used to you being so nice to me." Neal smiled at her. "I usually get the feeling that I generally irritate you."

"I will admit that even on a good day my patience for you is limited, but you're growing on me...somewhat."

Neal chuckled. By the time he got out into the short hallway of the ICU Neal was feeling more steady on his feet. Diana released him, but stayed close in case his step faltered again. Neal worried about seeing the protective mother hen side of Diana, it spoke volumes as to how shaken the whole team probably was by the incident. Looking to his left Neal spotted Jones and an Agent he didn't know very well standing guard outside the door to the next room over. IV pole in hand Neal stepped up to Jones.

"Caffrey." Jones greeted with a nod. "How are you feeling?"

"Kind of like I ran a marathon, and then got hit by a truck only to then stumble into an oncoming train."

"You should be in bed." The nurse at the near by station chastised.

"I'll go back there soon, promise." Neal assured the nurse before turning back to Jones. "I just want to see Peter, I won't stay long."

"Peter's not in here, he's on the other side."

Neal furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment, his thinking was still a little fuzzy. Looking back over his shoulder he saw Hughes along with two other Agents that Neal didn't recognize at all standing by the door to the room one more down from Neal's. Neal couldn't recall having seen Hughes wearing his sidearm before. The man had always looked imposing enough, he looked down right loaded for bear now. Not looking forward to dealing with the gatekeeper to Peter's room Neal turned back to Jones.

"Jones why are you standing here? Who's in here?"

"Alistair Price."

"Alistair?" Neal repeated in shock.

"Supposedly our kidnapper, an old CI of Peter's."

"What?"

"So far we don't have any actual evidence to connect him to it, but our tech guys are working on the melted mess in his apartment."

It hadn't really been the supposed kidnapper part of the statement that had caught Neal off guard. Jones gave Neal a very brief run down of what had happened during the raid. Neal had thought he had already known, having been on the phone with Alistair when it had happened. However he had just assumed that they had killed him. Neal looked past Jones into the room at the monster that it held. Alistair wasn't anything like Neal had imagined him. He was thin to the point of being lanky, he didn't look more than a few years older than Neal but his sandy brown medium length hair was streaked with gray. Barely clinging to life with a host of wires and IV lines connected to him along with a tube down his throat helping him breath Alistair didn't look like someone capable of playing the sick game he'd put them through.

"There is little doubt in our minds that he's our guy," Jones added to the end of his story "but that's not the same as evidence that will hold up in court against him, and reasonable doubt goes a long way in a trial."

Neal's blood flashed to ice at the mention of a trial. Trials were notoriously difficult on the victims of violent crimes and their families. Beyond having to retell the story to a room of strangers they often had to defend themselves and their integrity against the questioning of the defense attorney. Not to mention the press that would probably be involved in a federal trial of this nature. The last thing Peter needed right now was to be dragged through a messy trial.

"If we don't find something solid, Alistair will walk." Jones sighed.

"He shot you." Neal pointed out.

"Had I actually ended up wounded or killed that might mean something, but as it is any half decent lawyer can spin this as an overly aggressive government agency invading on the personal rights of an innocent civilian who simply defended himself. Worse yet a civilian in WITSEC whose cover we have now completely blown. A good lawyer could even turn this into a sizable lawsuit."

"No." Neal shook his head in denial. "We can't him get away with this on a technicality."

"It's not a technicality, Caffrey," Hughes growled as he joined the conversation "it's a complete lack of evidence."

"You found Peter, didn't you?"

"No. We were told where he was, and we were told Alistair was to blame. There is just as much chance that the anonymous tip came from the kidnapper looking to frame Alistair."

"You know that isn't true." Neal spat defensively.

"It doesn't matter what I know, it only matters what I can prove." Hughes argued as tempers rose. "Just like I can't prove anything to do with the White Rabbit bank robberies even though I *know* who it was."

"Alistair didn't plan all of this in hopes of living through an FBI raid just so he could sue you. There is something more, something that could connect him to all of this."

"Even if we find it, now that you've involved yourself personally in his capture it will all be fruit from a poisonous tree."

"I couldn't just let Peter be tortured to death!"

"I am not going to argue that point with you, because I am *damn* grateful to have my Agent back. But you have to understand that you traded Peter's life for Alistair's freedom. If you had let us do our jobs..."

"Peter would be dead." Neal interrupted coldly.

"You can't know that. You can't know how Alistair would have reacted if you had refused his demands and come to us instead."

"I saw how he reacted, it just made him more desperate."

"Desperate men make mistakes, and mistakes work in our favor."

Neal knew that Hughes had a point, but that didn't stop him from feeling that Peter wouldn't have survived long enough for the FBI to find him. Alistair had nearly killed him in the first hours of the abduction just testing out the electric trap he'd set in the floor. Peter's ex-CI wouldn't have hesitated to use that same trick to kill him if he'd had become cornered with enough time to react. He had been cold blooded and calculating the entire time without a moment's hesitation or reservations over the pain he was inflicting.

"Why are you even keeping him alive?" Neal demanded in frustration.

"Because we are Federal Agents, not executioners."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Waking slowly Peter kept his eyes closed in fear that he'd just be greeted by the monotonous sight of the close metal walls anyway. He tried and failed to ignore his surroundings in an attempt to ignore his situation with the use of denial, something he'd never been very good at. Despite fearing that nothing had changed he did notice that something was out of place, something was missing, he just wasn't sure what it was. Disoriented and exhausted by the events of the day it seemed like an impossible task to untangle the jumble of his disjointed memories. Part of his mind was telling him he'd made it out, the other half was nagging at him that any memories of rescue were just wishful thinking or delusional dreaming.

The air was missing the cruel bite to it that he'd actually started to get used to, but he'd woken several times in the small space with the air an amenable temperature. The floor wasn't hard or uncomfortable the way he remembered it being, but again as he'd succumb to the hypothermia the numbness had stolen his pain. Still the two signs did give him hope that he wasn't where he thought he was. Without looking around it was impossible to tell what was really happening, he simply didn't trust his other senses not to lie to him. However the last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes and shatter the illusion that he was somewhere safe.

Laying still Peter realized that the main missing element in his world was the maddening droning of the motor that drove the air-conditioning. Even when the temperatures had been above freezing the mechanical insect noise had surrounded him. It had only cut out the once when his tormentor had played with his fears of being in a fire trap, but he had sworn he wouldn't be rattled by that particular trick again so the silence didn't alarm him.

Having convinced himself that even if he wasn't safe there was really nothing he could do about it Peter started to drift back to sleep. A sudden memory of Neal crying out in pain that was vivid enough to make him think he was actually hearing it again jolted Peter full awake. The previously quiet heart monitor that had been satisfied with his condition while he slept now rang out a deep warning tone as his heart rate spiked dangerously high.

The unfamilar sound only further alarmed Peter as he struggled with his new reality. It was almost three am and the lights in the ICU rooms had been dimmed to help the patients sleep. Untangling himself from the sheets Peter threw his legs over the side of the bed, suffering both a stabbing pain in his chest and a wave of nausea. Ignoring both he instinctively reached up to his side where his harness usually held his weapon only to find himself not only unarmed but also wearing a plastic brace over a thick bandage wrapped around his right hand and wrist.

"Damn it..." Peter muttered under his breath.

Disoriented by the hospital room and the machinery that it held Peter made the executive decision that it was better to assume danger when there was none rather than take safety for granted and end up missing a threat. Setting off the heart monitor had alerted the night nurses that their patient was awake and trying to do something he shouldn't by getting out of bed. However, knowing his Agent and with the panic Peter had woken with the last time Hughes had prevented the staff from entering the room. Hughes stepped just inside the large sliding glass door way and tried to gently get Peter's attention.

"Peter..."

Startled by the sound of Hughes calling his name from behind him Peter jumped to his feet. Uncoordinated due to the extreme physical and mental stress of the events he stumbled forward. Becoming caught up in the wire leads connecting him to the heart monitor Peter reached up and tore them out of the neck of the scrubs he was wearing to free himself. Backing himself into the near by corner Peter's chest heaved with the effort to catch his breath against the demands of the adrenaline rush. Having ripped out the IV line out blood slowly dripped down his arm, but it was the least of his concerns.

The lancing pain with each breath from his rib and the intense burning sensation down the side of his face from where he'd laid against the cold metal made it more difficult to focus. Having been clinically dead for over an hour wasn't working in his favor either as he tried to make sense of things. Hughes was little more than a dark menacing figure as the back lighting of the hall obscured his features.

"Hon?" Elizabeth's soft voice instantly caught Peter's attention.

Peter glanced in Elizabeth's direction before snapping his attention back to the outline of Hughes in the doorway. She had fallen asleep on the couch against the far wall and was now standing a few feet away giving him a chance to adjust. Keeping his eyes glued on the unidentified figure at the door Peter extended his uninjured hand out to Elizabeth for her to take. Elizabeth didn't hesitate to step forward and take the offer. Firmly closing his hand around hers Peter pulled Elizabeth closer before guiding her to stand in the corner so that he could take up a defensive position in front of her.

"Stand down, Agent Burke." Hughes ordered calmly. "There is no threat here, it's all clear."

"Peter, it's okay." Elizabeth assured gently. "That's Reese. You're in the hospital."

Peter furrowed his brow as he fought with the haze in his mind to connect words and faces into a better picture of the situation. Not fully convinced that he was in the company of friends he maintained his protective stance. It was the night nurse that quietly suggested to Hughes that he take a step back where he'd be better lit by the brighter overhead lights of the hall. Finally able to truly recognize the familiar face Peter relaxed. He allowed Elizabeth to step out of the corner and pulled her into a tight embrace despite the pain it caused his broken rib.

Knowing about the damaged rib Elizabeth wrapped her arms low around his waist and returned the comforting affection. Nestled against his chest she could hear Peter's racing heart slowly start to return to a more relaxed rhythm. Enjoying the reunion Peter closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the warmth of her skin. Taking a deep breath Peter released a much needed sigh of relief.

"I love you." Peter whispered.

"I love you too."

Elizabeth was doing a good job of not breaking down into true crying, but he could still feel her silent tears soaking through his shirt. Holding her closer he rubbed between her shoulders in an effort to calm her. Managing to let go of some of the fear and stress of the day Elizabeth back up just enough to allow her to look up at him with a smile. Peter smiled as well, grateful for her strength, before leaning in for a soft kiss. After accepting the kiss Elizabeth reached up and placed her hand against the uninjured side of Peter's face.

Although the conditions had been perfect for hypothermia his frost bite was mostly moderate to mild. The left side of his face was an angry red with a raw area across his cheek bone, and there was good chance that he was going to lose the tip of his left ear that was still a bright white from lack of blood flow. At the moment he was only vaguely aware of the burning sensation in his hands and feet, only time would tell if there was going to be any lasting nerve damage. Keeping Elizabeth in a loose embrace Peter looked up at Hughes who was still outside the door.

"Sorry, Sir." Peter apologized for his previous mistrust. "Rough day."

"That's a bit of an understatement." Hughes agreed.

"Neal..."

"Caffrey's fine, he wasn't shot, suffered some fairly severe heat exhaustion but he's recovering just fine. He's right next door, sleeping rather heavily."

The knot in Peter's stomach released its hold on him slightly as he starting to honestly believe that the ordeal was over with. With Elizabeth back in his arms and Neal found he could take a moment to not worry about what came next. The consequences of everything that had happened weren't something he wanted to think about right now. He had a ton of questions, but he didn't feel like he could handle any of the answers right now so he didn't ask. Instead he settled on a simpler question.

"Can I see him?"

The nurse on staff didn't look too pleased with the idea of Peter continuing to be out of bed, but Hughes nodded. Peter hugged Elizabeth tighter briefly before releasing her.

"Stay here, I'll be right back, I promise."

Elizabeth nodded and let him go. Hughes stepped into the room to help Peter but Peter shook his head and insisted he was fine. It wasn't until he was out of the room and away from Elizabeth's view that Peter reached out and put his hand against the wall to help support himself. Understanding his desire to hide the extend of his condition from Elizabeth Hughes didn't say anything, he just stayed close in case he had to catch Peter if he fell.

Closing his eyes Peter reached up with his injured hand and awkwardly pinched the bridge of his nose. The brace was keeping the broken bone in the back of his hand stable, but it was the torn skin from prying off the cuff that bothered him the most. Standing in the hall Peter could still feel the edges of panic bitting at his subconscious, looking for a way to break through. Forcing his memories of the day to the back of his mind Peter focused on the short trip to Neal's room. Diana, Jones and the other Agent had been relieved for the evening by a set of Agents that Peter only knew by name. Peter didn't even question the fact that there were Agents standing outside Neal's room and the next one over. Right now he just wanted visual confirmation that Neal was alright so that the next time he woke he would have a better idea of what was going on.

Getting to the glass that separated the ICU room from the hall Peter looked in at Neal sleeping peacefully. There was a cut in his temple with a few stitches in it that had an abrasion around it that looked like the kind of injury one got from striking a rough surface. Other than that he looked physically unharmed. Peter was fairly certain that he didn't want to know what Neal had done in his attempt to keep Alistair happy. Seeing the hand cuff that was around his wrist and secured to the bedrail confirmed Peter's fears, although he could tell at just a glance that the cuff hadn't been placed on nearly tight enough to keep Neal from just slipping it if he wanted to.

"What's going to happen to him?" Peter asked Hughes.

"That's up to you, Peter."

"Me?"

"He's your CI." Hughes said with a slight smile.

"But he..."

"Hard evidence is lacking all over this case." Hughes interupted. "All we know for sure is that he saved your life. Your heart stopped, and he kept you going until we arrived."

"How did you find us?"

"Anonymous tip, they gave us the case number that lead to Price and then an address that lead us to you two."

"Anonymous." Peter repeated knowing full well the only person other than Alistair who had heard the case number.

"You know, Peter, I've never really liked or particularly trusted Caffrey, but he certainly has his moments and today was one of them."

Peter reached up and rubbed at his sore sternum. Searching his memory he recalled Neal desperately trying to help him get warm. The memory wasn't a long one as he had passed out soon after being freed from the container, but he remembered the panic in Neal's voice. It chilled Peter blood recalling the details the small box that he'd almost lost his life in. It had only gotten worse when he'd thought that Neal was going to end up bleeding out alone somewhere.

Fighting to keep calm Peter suddenly lost the battle when the hospital air-conditioning kicked in and moved a gentle cool breeze across his skin. Too many times the slightest drop in temperature had been the precursor to hours of kneeling on hard metal while the icy air slowly tore his life away from him. Even though he knew in his mind that it wasn't about to happen again his body wasn't as easy to convince. Pitching forward Peter was sent into a violent fit of dry heaving. Hughes helped Peter maintain his balance until he regained control of his stomach.

"I'm sorry." Peter panted.

"Stop apologizing, Peter. None of this was your fault, remember that."

"Remembering isn't the problem...learning to forget will be."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

It was early morning when Neal opened his eyes to the drop tile ceiling of the ICU room. Finally getting a decent amount of sleep waking up wasn't nearly as disorienting this time as it had been the last. He was still sore, but he felt far better than he expected to. The greatest mercy was the fact that the splitting headache no longer sliced through his every thought. The more he had argued about Alistair with Hughes last night the worse it had become. In the end Neal had given up on the pointless discussion and after quickly looking in on Peter who was still sleeping he'd been forced by exhaustion and pain to go back to bed himself.

Right now what was bothering him the most was something he'd barely noticed the evening before. The back of his right hand complained sharply with even the slightest movement. Pulling his hand out from under the sheets Neal furrowed his brow at the large dark purple bruise across the back of his hand. He went to rub the back of his hand with his left, only to be reminded that his other wrist was secured to the bed rail.

"That's a CPR injury." A deep voice informed. "Small price to pay for saving a life."

Neal decided that he wasn't fully mentally recovered from the past day since he hadn't even noticed that he wasn't alone in the room. Sitting on the couch with his arms stretched out across the top of it casually was a man around his age in a dark suit and blood red tie. The way he was resting his arms allowed his jacket to fall open to reveal the shoulder harness and weapon that he wore. Neal assumed he was an Agent, but he didn't recognize him. The Agent got to his feet and stepped over to the edge of the bed. He looked Neal over for a moment before slipping his hands into his pockets. Neal suddenly found himself a little uncomfortable with being alone with the stranger. He glanced towards the door, but there wasn't anyone in view.

"Do you dye your hair, Mr. Caffrey?" The man asked suddenly.

"Do I what?" Neal asked confused.

"Dye your hair. With eyes like those I'd expect you to be a natural blonde."

"Uh...no." Neal replied warily. "I'm not blonde, I don't dye my hair."

"Cuffs and collars all match then?" He chuckled. "Excellent."

"I'm sorry...who are you?"

"Agent Walsh." The Agent offered his hand to Neal. "Violent Crimes, armed robbery division, I deal mostly with banks."

Neal's blood chilled at hearing the Agent's division. He had not been particularly careful with the bank jobs that Alice had sent him on. Neal hesitated to shake Walsh's hand, he knew how much some Agents like to lure their prey in with a friendly handshake only to slap a pair of cuff on them instead. However with his other wrist already restrained it would be kind of over kill to cuff him again. Deciding it probably wasn't a trap Neal accepted the gesture and shook Walsh's hand. Walsh chuckled again, having seen Neal's hesitation. Neal was grateful when Walsh released his sore hand, but he still had a feeling that he was in some serious trouble.

"How can I help you, Agent?" Neal asked politely.

"You already did."

"By not being blonde?"

"Yup." Agent Walsh nodded.

"You lost me."

"You had a busy day yesterday so you probably didn't hear, but there was a man of your height, build and general description that was running around committing a string of very odd bank robberies. We found the rabbit mask he was using to hide his identity."

"You found it?" Neal asked barely managing to hide his surprise.

"A citizen found it in a back alley, handed it in having heard about the heists on the news. Anyway, it had a few stray hairs in it. No root to the hair so we can't run any DNA, but we did learn that whoever it was had blonde hair dyed to be dark like yours."

"You can have some of it you need to run a comparison." Neal offered as he ran his free hand through his naturally dark hair.

"Not necessary." Walsh assured. "I believe you, I just needed to scratch you off my list of suspects to keep my boss happy. You know how it is."

"Sorry I couldn't be more help."

"Between you, me, and the IV pole here this guy isn't any where near my top of my list of bad guys to catch." Walsh studied Neal for a moment before smiling warmly. "The whole thing seems more like the act of a desperate man, not a dangerous criminal."

Neal just smiled. Neal guessed that Mozzie had been the helpful good Samaritan who had handed in the mask after planting some evidence to throw the FBI a little further from his trail. He doubted that Walsh had actually fallen for the simple decoy, but it also looked like he wasn't going to press the issue. Agent Walsh wished Neal a speedy recovery and turned to leave as Diana was arriving.

"Keep an eye on this one, Diana." Walsh warned mockingly to Diana.

"I try." Diana sighed.

"I like him." Neal chuckled after the Agent had left.

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing that he seems to like you too or you'd be in a lot more trouble than you are."

"Part of the reason why I like him."

"Of course it is." Diana shook her head sadly. "You seem to be feeling better."

"I am. How's Peter?"

"Awake, and anxious to get out of here."

"As am I." Neal highlighted his point by tugging on his restrained wrist.

"I know you don't need the key to get out of that."

"I really don't," Neal twisted his hand around and pull himself free "I was just being on my best behaviour. I've been cut a lot of slack lately, I didn't want to just take more."

"You don't even know the half of it."

Neal waited for Diana to explain further, but she didn't offer up any more information. Before Neal could ask any more questions the doctor came in. After a brief exam the doctor cleared Neal for discharge from the hospital and pulled the IV out for him. Free from the IV pole Neal asked if he could step next door. Diana nodded.

Much more steady on his feet this morning Neal didn't have any trouble making it out of the room. He glanced over and saw that Agents were still guarding Alistair, part of him had hoped that the kidnapper had died from his injuries in the night. Deciding against worrying about Alistair right now Neal walked over to Peter's room. The Agents standing outside Peter's room glanced at Neal, but didn't try to stop him.

Looking in through the closed sliding glass door Neal found Peter with the head of the bed up with Elizabeth curled up at his side with her head resting against his chest. Watching her with the look of a man who knew exactly how close he'd come to losing something precious Peter gently smoothed out her hair with his braced hand. Despite the fact that it caused him to wince in pain Peter leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

Neal wanted to talk to Peter, but he didn't want to disturb the peaceful pair. He couldn't help but think about Kate at times like this. Her death was still fresh in his mind, and he missed her terribly, but at the same time after everything that had happened between then since his arrest he found that he had a hard time imagining her being there for him the way Elizabeth was always there for Peter. They had had something at one point, but looking back on it he felt they'd probably lost it long before the explosion had taken what remained of their chances together.

Neal was about to turn away to leave when Peter looked up and spotted him. Neal put his hands up slightly and took a step back to let Peter know that he didn't mean to intrude and could come back later. Peter smiled and shook his head before gesturing for him to come inside. Neal opened the sliding glass door as quietly as he could, but Elizabeth hadn't been asleep she'd just had her eyes closed. Looking over at Neal Elizabeth smiled.

"You're in big trouble, Mister." Elizabeth teased.

"That's nothing new, but what did I do this time?"

"It's not what you did, it's what you didn't do." Elizabeth clarified. "Mozzie is furious that you didn't call him to tell him that you're alright."

"I take it he called you?"

"Several times. He can be quite the Mother Hen."

"Yes he can."

Elizabeth careful untangled herself from Peter and got to her feet. She leaned in to give his cheek a kiss but she was on his injured side and stopped herself settling for kissing his temple instead. It had been dark when Neal had quickly checked in on Peter last night and he hadn't noticed the open raw frostbite mark that marred Peter's cheekbone and radiated a bright red across nearly half his face.

"I'll give you two a minute." Elizabeth said quietly.

"Thank you, Hon." Peter said gratefully.

Elizabeth stepped up to Neal and gave him a gentle hug. Releasing Neal Elizabeth took one last look back at Peter before stepping out and sliding the glass door behind her. Neal wasn't entirely sure if he appreciated her leaving him alone with Peter or not. So far he hadn't said anything directly to him and he wasn't exactly sure what Peter's reaction to all of this was going to be. Peter had ordered him to stop following Alistair's orders, determined to uphold the FBI's policy of non-negotiations even at the cost of his own life and Neal had directly violated those wishes.

"Peter..."

Neal had started to try and explain himself but Peter had held up his hand to stop him. Falling silent Neal stood where he was while Peter worked to get himself out of bed. Putting his feet down on the cold tile floor Peter's breath hissed across his teeth as he jerked them away. Gritting his teeth together he slowly put his feet back down again. Neal wasn't sure if it was after effects of frostbite or possibly electrical burns that were making it painful for Peter to touch the floor.

In reality it was a mixture of both combined with a psychosomatic fear of the temperature difference that was making the simple task more difficult for Peter. The previous evening he had far too much adrenaline in his system to notice any of it. Now he had to take a deep breath just to steel himself up to the idea of putting weight through them. Leaning forward he failed to get up on the first try.

"Peter, you don't ha..."

Peter interrupted Neal with an icy glare. Neal was becoming increasingly unnerved by Peter's silence. He wanted to step forward and help but Peter didn't look like he would accept it at the moment. This time when he pitched forward he managed to get to his feet. Peter took a moment to make sure he wasn't going to fall before turning and walking over to Neal.

Still uncertain as to what was going to happen next Neal resisted the temptation to take a step back when Peter approached. Peter looked down at Neal and shook his head sadly with a heavy sigh. Neal took a breath to speak but only managed a surprised yelp when Peter suddenly clasped him into a powerful embrace. Neal was relieved by the warm reception, but a little concerned by it as well.

"Peter? Are you okay?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"That's more like it."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"Come on, Peter, sit down before you fall down."

Not really in the mood to be coddled Peter pulled away when Neal tried to guide him back over to the bed. Frustrated, in pain, and with a vague anxiety gnawing relentlessly at him Peter had far too much pent up energy to sit. Despite the pain that lanced up from the soles of his feet Peter paced back and forth in the confinement of the ICU room. He was fairly certain that the heart monitor would be ringing out if he hadn't refused to be hooked back up to either the monitor or the IV that he had pulled out the night before. He knew the hospital staff was just trying to help, but he did not want to be tethered to anything.

Neal watched silently as Peter worked off some of his agitation. He stayed ready to step in if Peter over exerted himself but knew trying to stop him now would be counterproductive. Peter had spent a very long eight hours at the complete mercy of another and that wasn't something he was going to recover from over night. Stopping his pointless pacing for a moment Peter went to drag his hands through his hair but jerked back in pain as he bumped the plastic brace protecting his hand against his forehead. Snarling angrily Peter tore at the velcro that held the plastic in place, ripping it off he threw it aside leaving him with just the gauze. Neal had known full well he was going to be angry, but he wasn't quite expecting the sudden flash of near rage that Peter was demonstrating now.

"Peter...I'm sorry I played Alistair's game. I know I should have let the FBI handle it, but I couldn't just watch him tor..."

"I'm not angry at you, Neal." Peter interrupted. "I'm angry at myself."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not angry with you."

"Peter..."

"I should be livid that you broke every rule, and what I suspect are more than a few laws, to save me, but I desperately wanted you to find me. I wanted nothing more than to see Elizabeth again. I should have been more prepared to die, there is absolutely *no* reason why an exception should be made for me. I have no right to be alive, I got caught, and we don't negotiate, not for any reason."

Neal didn't reply right away, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. He had been more prepared to defend his own actions, he hadn't expected Peter to be suffering from a variation of survivor's guilt. Still agitated but quickly losing energy Peter was forced to sit on the edge of the bed. Staring at the floor with his thoughts obviously racing Peter brought his injured hand up and held it protectively against his chest. Neal stepped over to where Peter had discarded the brace and picked it up. Going back over to the bed Neal knelt down and waited for Peter to offer him his broken hand. Peter just glared at him defiantly for a moment before sighing in defeat and holding out his arm for Neal to carefully slipped the brace back on. Staying on his knees to keep eye level with Peter Neal watched him for a moment to see if he'd realize on his own that he wasn't to blame and hadn't shown anything other than courage over the past twenty-four hours.

"I'm sorry, Neal, I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

"I wasn't looking for an apology."

"Then what are you looking for?"

"Are you sure that you were as self-centered through all of this as you seem to believe?" Neal asked gently. "You might not remember this, you were half a volt away from being electrocuted to death at the time, but even in the face of continued torture you ordered me not to follow Alistair's demands."

"I remember." Peter said darkly. "I knew you wouldn't listen."

"That isn't you fault. My actions have nothing to do with your conviction." Neal said seriously. "You can't tell me that at that moment you weren't ready to die for what you believed in."

Peter didn't agree, but he didn't argue either. He just closed his eyes briefly and shifted his weight uncomfortably. He kept opening and closing the hand without a brace, the nerves had been damaged by the cold and were irritating him as they randomly fired messages to his brain that didn't have anything to do with what was really happening. The broken side was doing the same thing, but he didn't have the same freedom to fidget with that side. However Neal was far more concerned with Peter's mental restlessness than his physical symptoms.

"Peter, did you give Alistair anything he wanted? Even the simplest of requests?" Neal pressed. "Or did you force him to knock you unconscious and restrain you further to keep you from causing trouble?"

Peter looked at Neal and actually managed a quick grin at the memory of frustrating Alistair over the blood he'd smeared on the camera.

"I thought so." Neal smiled as well. "I was watching, Peter, you don't have a single action to be ashamed of. Besides the FBI didn't make an exception for you, I did, and after the way they came down on Alistair I don't think anyone out there is doubting that the FBI has a bite far worse than its bark. No one is coming away from this thinking that it's a good idea to mess with a Federal Agent."

A heavy silence fell over the pair. Neal didn't know what else to say, and Peter needed a minute to think about what had been said. Neal believed every word of it, he just hoped Peter could do the same. Forgiveness was a difficult gift to give yourself and truly accept. Peter's continued silence had Neal worried that he wasn't ready to even consider the idea that he hadn't failed the Agency with his desire to live.

Neal was just about to say something more when Peter suddenly reached out and put his hand on his shoulder to pull him slightly closer. Peter leaned forward and lightly rested his forehead against Neal's. Smiling in relief that Peter had at least hear him Neal reached up and gave Peter's arm a gentle squeeze in a silent show of support. Peter took a deep breath, releasing it slowly he dropped some of the tension he'd been holding in his shoulders. Neal closed his eyes and allowed himself to briefly forget about the long road ahead of them both.

"Thank you, Neal."

"You're welcome, Peter."

"Now, stop acting so 'adult'," Peter said only half jokingly as he leaned back "it freaks me out."

"Me too." Neal chuckled.

Peter smiled, and although the expression was somewhat forced he did look like he'd regained some of his confidence. At the very least he didn't look like he was actively internally berating himself and he rested his hands in his lap to keep from making them worse with constant motion. Neal sat back on his heels and studied Peter for a moment. He was definitely worse for wear inside and out. Beyond the emotional damage that was more hidden Neal feared that he was going to lose the tip of his left ear and there was little doubt that he'd forever bear a visible scar across his cheek, both of which would serve as constant reminders. However what really mattered was that he was a alive and there didn't seem to be any obvious signs of brain damage from his more than close call with death. Thinking about brain damage Neal furrowed his brow as he remembered something that still didn't make any sense.

"What?" Peter asked, seeing Neal's concentration.

"What did you mean by 'Riki-Tiki-Tavi'?"

"I was referring to Alistair. There were a lot of people involved in that case I needed something to help steer the investigation towards him."

"I still don't see the connection."

"Alistair was a CI of mine."

"Yeah, I know that...so?"

"He was a snitch, a 'rat', like Riki-Tiki-Tavi."

"Uh, no," Neal smiled "Riki-Tiki-Tavi wasn't a rat, he was a mongoose."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Close enough."

"Next time use 'Templeton'." Neal offered.

"Who?"

"Never mind. There isn't going to be a 'next time' anyway, so it isn't important."

The conversation between them died and the silence that followed slowly became uncomfortable. Peter wanted to know what Neal had been doing at Alistair's command, even though he knew he shouldn't ask Neal to incriminate himself. Neal wanted to ask Peter questions about Alistair, he only knew very vague details about the former CI. He wanted to know more so that he could start working on why Alistair had dragged him into this as well. If pure revenge had been all he'd wanted he would have been much smarter to not contact with the FBI or bother with running Neal in circles. If he had just taken Peter away there would have been nothing to connect him with the kidnapping. Everything had seemed so well calculated, there had to be reason for the bank robberies and the risk of interacting with Neal.

Finding out what his other motive could help ensure he landed behind bars. The sooner a connection was found the better, leads could go cold quickly and the first forty-eight hours was always the most important. At the same time now did not seem like a good time to stress Peter with anything Alistair related. Before Neal could weight the pros and cons of having a difficult conversation Peter suddenly got to his feet with a wince of pain.

"I want to go for a walk." Peter announced despite the obvious discomfort just standing caused. "I'd really like to get out of this room."

"Uh..." Neal hurried to his own feet. "I don't think that's such a good idea. How about I just go find Elizabeth and bring her back here? I'm sure she's anxious to see you again."

"What are you hiding?"

"Hiding? Nothing. Just can't imagine the doctor wants you up and about."

"He's still alive..." Peter stared at the closed glass door. "He's here."

"Two doors down, in critical condition." Neal admitted. "Don't worry about Alistair right now, we'll get him later."

"What do you mean by that?"

Neal cursed silently at himself. Peter sat back down, suddenly understanding.

"There's no evidence against him, is there?" Peter asked quietly.

"No, but the FBI will find something."

Peter just nodded, still staring vacantly out into the hall as he contemplated having to deal with Alistair walking. Neal knew he couldn't say anything to Peter about it, but he had already decided that if Alistair live he would never see freedom again. It wouldn't matter how careful Alistair had been. If evidence didn't exist, Neal would create it.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"It's amazing how quickly I forget how heavy this thing is."

"Keep it on and you won't need reminding." Diana pointed out as she watched Neal secure his new anklet. "Not that I don't think you wouldn't have gladly traded wearing it for avoiding everything that happened."

"I would have traded anything to have prevented this." Neal replied seriously.

"Peter's strong, he'll get through it."

"Not if he doesn't get justice for what happened." Neal muttered bitterly.

"Neal," Diana said sternly "you let the FBI worry about Alistair. You focus on helping Peter."

"He isn't going to let me help him on anything other than a superficial level, he already blames himself for what happened."

"That's normal, Neal. Just let him work through it in his own way and be there when he needs you."

"Don't you mean 'if'." Neal growled.

"No."

Neal took a breath to calm himself, he really didn't mean to be snapping at Diana any more than Peter had meant to lose his temper around him. It was just so much more satisfying at the moment to be indignant than helpless. Although he had been medically discharged from the hospital he was still waiting around in the ICU room since the FBI had taken over this side of the unit anyway. He was not looking forward to being taken home and being alone. Neal noticed that Diana was watching him with a hint of concern. He smiled warmly at her and instantly turned her expression to one of suspicion.

"What?" Diana asked warily.

"Speaking of being there, I wanted to thank you for being there for me."

"It was really the EMT who saved you." Diana said dismissively. "It was his idea to get you into the freezer."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Neal glanced at the door to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "I know there was bank dye on my arm, I didn't have time to try and get it off. The ER doctors wouldn't have bothered with it, I know it was you."

"That stays between us, Neal." Diana said quickly.

"No arguments here. I just know you had a lot to lose risking helping me, and I wanted you to know that I appreciate it."

"You're welcome." Diana said begrudgingly.

Neal took a step closer while opening his arms slightly, Diana backed up putting one hand on her gun at her hip and the other up to stop Neal.

"Touch me and I arrest you." Diana warned.

"Too far," Neal noted as he backed up with his hands held up in surrender "not the hugging type, got it."

"See that you remember it."

Neal smiled, Diana did not do the same. Neal knew that he wasn't her favorite person by a long shot and that what she seemingly did for him she actually did for Peter. However he still appreciated and admired her loyalty even if it wasn't to him. Neal wasn't sure what to do next and was about to ask Diana more about Alistair when he noticed Peter limping by his room on his way towards Alistair's room. Seeing Neal's worried expression Diana looked over her shoulder and spotted Peter as well. Neal hesitated to go after him, knowing he might want to be alone.

"Go." Diana suggested. "I'm in charge of getting you home, just let me know when. No rush."

Neal nodded and headed out of the room. When he caught up to him Peter was standing in the hall across from Alistair's room with his back leaned up against the wall for support. Neal stepped up and stood up against the wall next to Peter, he tried to slip his hands into his pockets only to find that the hospital scrubs he was wearing didn't have pockets. Unsure of what to do with his hands he leaned forward just enough to let him hold them behind his back before leaning on them. Finding the position irritated the bruise in the back of his hand Neal switched again and just rested his hands by his sides.

Peter didn't appear to notice Neal's uncomfortable body language. He was staring through the glass with an unreadable expression at the man who had almost succeeded in putting him to a slow death. Neal glanced over at Peter's room and saw Elizabeth standing halfway out of the door with Hughes standing beside her. She looked on the brink of tears, but she was managing to control it. She met eyes with Neal and forced a sad smile that he returned with a slight nod, silently promising to do what he could for her husband.

Hughes leaned down and whispered something to her. After a brief hesitation Elizabeth nodded and retreated back into the room. Hughes took a step towards Neal and Peter, but reconsidered and followed Elizabeth into the room instead. Neal felt guilty being the one standing next to Peter, of his support system he had been in Peter's life the least amount of time and had caused trouble for most of it. However he guessed that Peter had asked Elizabeth to stay in the room while he went to look at his attacker and Hughes knew he could help best by keeping her company.

Taking Diana's advice Neal stood quietly and let Peter work through his thoughts in peace. The two Agents standing by the door were careful to keep to their task of being vigilant without looking directly at Peter, not so much ignoring him as respecting his privacy. Looking as pale as the sheets he was laying on Alistair didn't look like his chances at survival were very good. Neal had no idea how critical Alistair's condition was, he had asked but medical confidentiality laws kept anyone from giving him any real information. They shouldn't even really be allowed to be watching him, but none of the hospital staff was going to dare to chase them away. After a few minutes of silence Peter sighed heavily and shook his head slightly.

"I can't do it." Peter said quietly.

"Do what?"

"Feel sorry for him."

"Who says you have to?"

"I don't know...I don't expect to be ready to forgive him, I'd even be satisfied with never truly forgiving him, but I thought I could at least empathize with what he went through to drive him to do this to me. Instead, I just wish he was dead."

"There is nothing wrong with that." Neal said honestly.

"Wishing another dead isn't the kind of man I thought I was."

"We all fall short of our own expectations now and then. I'd also like to point out the fact that you set the bar unrealistically high...for us both."

"I expect the best of us both because it's the only way to get it." Peter pulled his attention away from Alistair to look at Neal. "If no one ever expected any from you other than just being a criminal you'd never even try to believe that you can do better let along act on it."

"Point taken." Neal smiled warmly. "But if you're going to give me second chances for missing perfection you need to do the same for yourself."

Peter just nodded and turned to stare at Alistair again. Neal could see it was making him uncomfortable to watch the sleeping demon. Breathing a little harder as he fought a rising panic attack Peter reached up and press his hand against his chest over his heart only to pull away again when it irritated his broken rib. He started to shift his weight back and forth to take the pressure off one foot before switching over to the other one. Neal figured that Peter was hoping to over come some of his new found fears by facing them head on, but it didn't really seem to be working as Peter became increasingly restless.

"Peter..."

"I can't stay here," Peter announced as he rubbed at his arm like a drug addict "I have to get out...I want to go home."

"Okay." Neal said carefully. "Let's get you home."

"The doctor wants to keep me another night."

"It's a hospital, not a prison, they can't keep you here."

"I can't leave against medical advice, it will make it more difficult to get my badge back when the time comes."

"I bet if we talk to Hughes about it he can get the doctor to change his mind on keeping you." Neal suggested. "You being here another night can't possible be the difference between life and dea..."

Neal trailed off as he noticed that he'd completely lost Peter's attention. A middle aged male hospital employee from housekeeping had just stepped out from around the corner and was casually making his way towards them with a small rolling laundry cart. Peter was focused on the man like a bird dog staring down a pheasant. As he got closer and went to pass in front of them Peter visibly tensed.

Neal was about to ask Peter what was wrong when the man with the cart glanced over at them. The next series of chaotic events all happened within the spans of a very confusing minute. Peter and the laundry cart man locked eyes and both froze for a split second. The man quickly shifted his eyes over at the other two Agents before turning back to Peter with an expression almost as if he was asking permission to continue. Peter just continued to stare at him, but when the man made the decision to make a move towards Alistair's room Peter was on him in a flash. Ripping the cart away from the man and throwing it out of his way Peter rushed him to slam the palm of his plastic brace against the man's face.

"Peter!" Neal cried in alarm at the violent outburst.

The man stumbled back with blood erupting from his nose. Peter stepped forward to plant his foot behind the man's leg to trip him. By the time the man hit the floor all three of the Agents on guard in the hall had weapons drawn on him, trusting that Peter had a reason for the sudden attack. Hughes was only seconds behind with his side arm drawn as well. Diana had rushed out of Neal's room and taken up a post outside Peter's to protect Elizabeth. With guns raised on all sides Neal brought his hand up slowly to show that he wasn't a threat, knowing that with adrenaline running high it was easy to accidentally get shot if you made the wrong move. Cradling his braced hand against his chest Peter stepped down on the man's chest. Clutching his hands to his heavily bleeding face the man wasn't going anywhere.

"Stay down!" Peter barked.

"Agent, what the hel..." Hughes stopped cold when he looked down at the man Peter had attacked. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Yes."

"Damn it." Hughes motioned to two of the Agents. "Get him out of here."

Neal still had no idea what was going on as the Agents hauled the man to his feet and secured his hands behind his back. Disoriented by the aggressive attack and fairly out of shape to begin with he didn't put up much of a fight as they took him away. Switching to a one hand grip on his weapon Hughes opened the small laundry cart and Neal leaned over to peek inside, on top of a pile of bedsheets was a gun and a syringe of clear liquid.

"What is that?"

"Probably digitalis or sodium pentothal." Hughes answered before looking to Peter. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"That was a close call." Hughes holstered his weapon. "Good work, Agent."

"He was going to kill you?" Neal asked.

"No, he didn't come here for me." Peter looked over to Alistair. "He came for him."

"What?"

"That was Joseph Scapine, an old enforcer from the mob Alistair betrayed." Hughes explained. "WitSec is going to have a fit that someone came after him already."

"He risked a hallway of Federal Agents to avenge a ten year old debt?"

"Mafia families never forget or forgive." Peter said. "He would have been greatly rewarded if he'd succeeded. Clearly he's a little rusty."

As everything settled back down Diana let Elizabeth out of the room to go to Peter. He pulled her into a warm embrace before asking her to go find the doctor so he could inform him that he was leaving, doctor's approval or not. Elizabeth hesitated to leave, but she didn't argue with Peter's desire to go home and looked relieved at the prospect. Once she was gone Peter went back to watching Alistair as if nothing had just happened.

"Maybe you're more the man that you thought you were after all." Neal pointed out.

"What are you talking about?"

"You just saved Alistair's life."

"I still wish he was dead."

"Then why did you stop Scapine?"

"Instinct."

"The fact that your instinct is to protect even those who have wronged you says far more about your character than a wish...particularly one that you could have easily let come true by just doing nothing."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen 

"Can I make you something to eat? I don't know what's in the fridge, and I know you don't shop when I'm away or cook for that matter."

"El..."

"Are you thirsty? The doctor said you really need to drink a lot of water."

"El..."

"I should change the bed sheets, it's little early for bed but..."

"Elizabeth, stop."

After a mostly silent trip back to the house once they had stepped inside Elizabeth had become almost hyperactive. They'd only been home a few minutes and she had instantly busied herself with straightening out the already pristine living room. Stopping her from the pointless task he took her hands in his own as best as he could with the clumsy brace. Peter guided her to stand in front of him, but she didn't bring her head up to truly face him. After giving her a minute Peter had to reach up and put his hand under Elizabeth's chin to encourage her to look up at him. Allowing him to tilt her head back tears slipped silently down her face.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth whispered.

"It's okay."

Elizabeth nodded as she brushed away her tears. Peter appreciated her trying to stay strong for him, but he knew it wasn't healthy for her. He hadn't pressed the matter when they were still in the hospital surrounded by coworkers and hospital staff. Now that they were alone he pulled her into a loose embrace with the intention of not letting her go until she released some of the pent up fear and anxiety that she was holding on to.

Burying her face against Peter's chest Elizabeth finally broke down into a true cathartic cry. Peter found it actually helped his own stress to offer her chance to cry by giving him the opportunity to be there for her. Resting his chin on top of her head he closed his eyes and tried to focus on just having her close. He could easily ignore the pain it caused his broken rib, however the way her silk shirt felt like it was made of glass shards against the damaged nerves in his hand was more difficult to push aside.

Peter was terrified of the idea of not being able to enjoy touching her ever again. The doctor had assured him that with time and desensitizing that his sense of touch should return to normal. When Peter had challenged him on the use of the word 'should' the doctor had become increasingly evasive. As far as the medical professional was concerned it wasn't his ruined sensation that worried him the most, but rather the damage the cold had done down the front of his shins.

Kneeling on the floor had protected his core from additional heat loss, but it had done so at the cost of exposing the thin layer of skin and muscle over his tibia bones to the frozen metal. If that tissue started to die it would leave the bone wide open to infection with a real danger of losing one or both legs at the knee. The area didn't bother Peter at the moment but he had been told it would take months before the extent of the damage was known.

"Unfortunately the old saying goes 'frostbite in January, amputate in July'." The doctor had informed him solemnly.

As much as Peter wanted to be grateful to just be alive he couldn't help but worry about the prospect. With modern prosthetics he shouldn't lose the ability to walk entirely, but it would have a good chance of ending his field career. Luckily the damage to his feet was mostly electrical and despite being painful it was not nearly extensive enough to cause tissue loss. Although his shoes had been taken from him eventually they had done a good job of protecting him from most of the cold while he'd still had them. Of course healthy feet wouldn't matter if the shins connecting them failed.

Peter was just about to have to start shifting his weight to relieve the pressure on the painful soles when Elizabeth managed to calm. She pulled back slightly to look up at him. She smiled warmly before pushing herself up on her toes to steal a quick kiss. Not about to let her go so easily Peter carded his left hand into her hair despite the angry protest his nerves made and leaned down into a more proper kiss. This time when he released her he let her take a step back, she looked as though both the crying and the affection had greatly reduced her anxiety.

"Thank you." Elizabeth smiled.

"Any time."

"We're going to make it through this."

It hadn't been a question so Peter didn't offer an answer. Glad to be home he looked around and noticed something missing.

"Where's Satchmo?"

"He's with the neighbors."

"Can you go get him?" Peter asked. "I think I'll sleep better with the whole family home."

Elizabeth hesitated to leave, but she headed out after Peter assured her that he'd be fine for the five minutes it would take to get Satchmo. Peter waited until she left before sitting down on the couch, unable to stay on his feet any longer. Sitting alone Peter's thoughts instantly went to the case. He knew that he wasn't going to be allowed to officially investigate a crime that he'd been a victim of, but unofficially he could help steer the Agents that were assigned to it. Having a disturbing thought Peter reached over and picked up the cordless house phone and dialed it.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Diana answered.

"Diana, you took Neal home?"

"Just dropped him off." Diana confirmed.

"Did you leave a protection detail outside?"

"No."

"I want one there, right now."

"I can set that up, I will stay out front until they arrive."

"Thank you."

"You don't ask for protection lightly. What's going on?"

"Hopefully nothing."

"But your gut is telling you this isn't over?" Diana asked knowingly.

"Alistair got what he wanted from me, but I get the feeling he was being used."

"Used?"

"The expense of this attack must have been extraordinarily, not the kind of money Alistair should have access to. If he just wanted simple revenge he could have grabbed me and locked me in a normal walk in freezer, the set up he had was elaborate to the extreme. Like a toy someone had bought him just for playing with me."

"Who would do that and why?"

"I don't know." Peter said frustrated. "I just really feel that someone else bankrolled this, and they probably aren't happy that the game ended early. What if what they were really after was something from Neal, not directly or anything...I don't know. I'm probably not making sense, but I'm worried."

"That they'll go after Neal directly now?"

"Exactly. They already tried to tie up loose ends with Alistair."

"Tipping off Scapine." Diana agreed.

"Unless it was one of us who leaked Alistair's name."

"No way." Diana said firmly.

"What was Neal doing?" Peter asked. "I didn't ask him any specifics, but from bits of conversation that Alistair let me hear it was clear he was forcing Neal into something."

"Do you really want to know?"

"I do."

"He was robbing banks at gun point."

"What?" Peter asked surprised.

"There's no solid evidence left that it was him, but it was."

"How much money could he possibly have gotten robbing tellers without a plan?"

"Technically he didn't get any money." Diana said. "He destroyed the first haul by taking a dye pack with him, the second he just left in the alley, and the third one he didn't even take anything, he just made a scene and left. It doesn't make much sense."

"It has to, there had to be a reason to have Neal running around town like that, everything was so carefully planned."

"Or maybe there isn't anyone else. Alistair could have devoted the last ten years of his life to this, saving up, and planing. Maybe he was messing with Neal because he knew it would upset you."

"No." Peter shook his head. "I think Alistair is just a white rabbit in all of this."

"A rabbit?"

"A distraction for the FBI to chase while something else went down, like setting a pack of dogs on a rabbit while the fox slips away with the hen."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Neal paced restlessly around his uncharacteristically disheveled apartment. On 'house arrest' Neal wasn't allowed off the property, not that there was anywhere in his regular two mile radius that he wanted or needed to be. Often when he got anxious he went out for a run, but that wasn't something he would be interested in right now even if he was allowed. The heatwave had reduced in intensity but it was still a good ninety degrees in the city as the sun set. More sensitive to the temperature after his recent brush with heat stroke Neal was miserable in the stuffy apartment.

"I hate summer."

Neal gave serious consideration to calling Peter and asking if he could spend the night in one of the FBI safe house hotel rooms that were spread across the city. In the end he decided against calling knowing that Peter probably would stop whatever it was he was doing at home to fill out all the paperwork and call in the favors that it would take to get Neal moved from his apartment tonight.

"The last thing he needs right now is to think he has to worry about me." Neal muttered to himself. "It will cool down now that the sun has set."

Not really feeling any better even as the temperature dropped Neal realized that his discomfort had less to do with the heat and more to do with being alone and idle. He wanted to be working on the case against Alistair, even though he'd already been told several times that was never going to be allowed. He couldn't even talk Diana into letting him be there when the warrants came through for opening the shipping containers at the warehouse where Peter had been held. Diana had pointed out that she wasn't going to be allow on the case either, but that hadn't made him feel any better. Neal feared that whoever from Violent Crimes that was going to be assigned the case wouldn't even know what they were looking for. Neal didn't know what he'd be looking for either, but he was confident that he'd still know it when he saw it.

"There has to be something more to this."

Neal knew that whatever else Alistair had been planing didn't really matter any more, but it gave him something other than Peter's erratic behavior to focus on. The doctor had made a very strong case for Peter to stay at least one more night in the hospital, but Peter could not be reasoned with on the topic. Between blaming himself for the kidnapping, wanting to forgive Alistair, and the violent attack on Scapine Peter wasn't demonstrating anything like his usual emotional stability, but he hadn't lost an ounce of his stubbornness and in the end he'd been released. Neal hoped that being home with Elizabeth would help, but being discharged late in the day meant coming home to night and no matter what the issue everything seemed to be worse at night. Even dealing with something as simple as a common cold always became more difficult in the long hours between dusk and dawn. Staying up all night obsessing over what happened wasn't going to be good for Peter.

"Or me." Neal admitted to himself.

Deciding to try and put things out of his mind until morning Neal wandered towards the kitchen to make a meal that he wasn't in any mood to eat. Neal picked through the mess that the US Marshals had left behind. Alistair hadn't been kidding when he said that they had turned his apartment inside out. He wasn't exactly sure what they thought they'd find, but they'd done a thorough job looking for it. Neal picked up the couch pillows off the floor and threw them over the back of the couch so that they were generally back where they belonged in a small effort to put the place back together again.

Before Neal could make it to the kitchen a phone started ringing. Neal looked around in confusion, it wasn't the ring tone he was used to. It sounded more like a traditional land line phone. The US Marshals had probably taken his cell phone that he had left behind as evidence so there really shouldn't be any ringing. Looking up Neal found that the source of the sound was a traditional phone that was set in the wall next to the kitchen cabinets. The phone had always been there, but Neal had never bothered to see if it worked or if it was just decoration. Walking over to it warily Neal picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Neal..."

"Mozzie? How do you have this number? I don't even have this number."

"June gave it to me."

"Of course, sorry I didn't call ear..."

"Neal, come downstairs and tell these Suits I'm not a trained assassin." Mozzie interrupted in an annoyed tone. "I mean clearly my body is a weapon and I am dangerous, but not to you."

"Suits? Mozzie, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Feds hiding in your bushes like a feral cats."

"What?"

"Just get down here and straighten this out."

Neal didn't get a chance to ask any further questions as Mozzie hung up on him. Standing alone in his trashed apartment Neal hesitated to leave the relative safety of his room to go down stairs. Realizing that he was being silly Neal left the apartment to see what Mozzie was talking about. If someone was trying to use Mozzie to lure him out Mozzie would have given him some kind of sign that there was danger. As it was Mozzie had just seemed irritated.

Cautiously opening the door at the bottom of the stairwell Neal found Mozzie standing on the sidewalk with two Agents that Neal recognized but didn't know by name. The Agents were blocking Mozzie's path silently while Mozzie railed on at them something about his rights as a citizen to use the sidewalk.

"Mozzie." Neal called.

"Neal, tell your government funded goons to back off."

"Guys, it's okay, he's a friend." Neal assured. "What are you two doing here anyway? Does the FBI think I'm going to bolt?"

"Protection detail." One of the Agents answered simply. "No one unauthorized in or out."

"I'm authorized." Mozzie said firmly. "They don't come any more authorized than me when it comes to Neal. Got it?"

"Mozzie, you're not helping." Neal sighed before turning his attention back to the men. "Agents, I appreciate that you're doing your job, but as strange as it sounds really I would really appreciate his company tonight and I really don't want to have to bother Agent Burke for permission. Please."

The two Agents spoke quietly to one another for a moment before parting so that Mozzie could pass. Neal didn't dare leave the threshold to June's unsure of how far his anklet would let him go and not wanting it to alert Peter that he was leaving the house. Mozzie put on a lofty expression and strode purposefully past the annoyed Agents. Neal just shook his head sadly. He thanked the Agents and opened the door wider so that Mozzie could join him. Once up stairs Mozzie looked around at the disarray.

"You need to fire your maid, Neal."

"I am the maid around here." Neal pointed out. "The Marshals tossed the place when I left."

"What were they looking for?"

"I don't know, I think it's just something they do."

"You should have them come and clean this up."

"I'd rather not invite the Marshals back into my house for any reason. I'll get it straightened out, I just didn't feel like doing it tonight."

"Understandable." Mozzie fell into an uncomfortable silence for a moment. "So...how is Peter doing?"

"Not great."

Neal hunted out a bottle of red wine and a pair of appropriate glasses. He had to search through the utensils that the Marshals had dumped out on the counter while going through his drawers to find the bottle opener. Mozzie accepted the drink offer and sat down at the table. Too restless to sit Neal just leaned back against the kitchen counter and drank half the glass before recounting everything that had happened. Mozzie had only had a general idea of what had happened and he listened quietly to Neal as he filled him in on the details. Neal finished the story with Peter's behavior in the hospital, blaming himself one minute, questioning who he was the next, and eventually lashing out at Scapine in a violent display before demanding that he be released from the hospital. Mozzie thought carefully about everything Neal said while Neal finished the second half of the glass of wine in his hand that he'd forgotten about during the hour long retelling.

"That all of that sounds like a reasonable reaction to me." Mozzie pointed out. "If anything he seems like he's coping remarkably well."

"I'm just know how well he keeps things hidden, if he's letting me see this amount of stress I know it's far worse below the surface."

"Give him some time."

"Everyone keeps saying that." Neal growled bitterly.

"Because time is what it takes. I know that's frustrating because even though we say 'give someone time' it's not really a gift that we can offer, it just happens. You've never been one for patience, but that's what Peter needs from you more than anything right now."

"I know." Neal sighed in defeat. "I just wish things were over with Alistair as far as a solid conviction goes. Clearly Peter doesn't feel safe or he wouldn't be having Agents sitting on my front step."

"Worrying about you gives him the chance to not have to worry about himself as much. Again, for him I think it's a healthy reaction."

"What exactly does he think Alistair's going to do to me? The man is in a coma surrounded by Agents. It's not like they are going to discharge him from the hospital tonight. He didn't even call to let me know he was putting a protection duty outside."

"Probably because he knew you'd say 'no' and he didn't want to argue."

"I never thought I'd see this day." Neal said suddenly with a smile.

"What day is that?"

"When you'd be arguing with me on Peter's behalf."

"Don't get used to it." Mozzie huffed. "Generally I think the Suit is a bad influence on you, but you seem to like him so I tolerate him."

Neal just smiled. He knew that Mozzie had become far more fond of Peter over the past two years than he'd ever admit to. It was no secret that he and Elizabeth had become good friends and if nothing else he hated to see Peter hurt for her sake. Feeling a little better having shared the whole event with someone Neal poured himself another glass of wine and did the same for Mozzie.

"I forgot to thank you for handing in the rabbit mask, nice touch with the dyed blonde hair."

"Did that work?"

"Yes and no." Neal admitted. "Agent Walsh acts like he knows it was me, but he also talks like he doesn't care and was happy not to look too closely at the evidence."

"Speaking of evidence." Mozzie drained his glass and reached out for the bottle which Neal handed over. "You left something else at my place in that shoulderbag, something I wasn't as sure what to do with."

"Peter's gun." Neal remembered suddenly. "He's going to want that back. Peter won't be happy knowing his weapon is just out there somewhere possibly committing crimes.'

"You talk like it's a run away child."

"Agents become very attached to their weapons. Peter has carried that one since graduation."

"I gave it a light acid bath to completely strip it of prints. I suppose if I'm super careful I can find a way to get it back to the FBI without having them trace it back to me. I'll get started on that tomorrow."

"No, give it to me." Neal said as he became lost in thought for a second. "I have an idea."

"I do *not* like the way you just said that."

"No, it's perfect. If I can get Alistair's print on Peter's weapon..."

"Whoa, wait, what? Planting evidence that leads nowhere is one thing, but putting prints on an FBI Agent's gun is a totally different game. Are you seriously suggesting framing a guy in a coma?"

"I'm not framing anyone!" Neal snarled angrily. "I'm just making sure a psychopath doesn't end up wining a lawsuit against the FBI and then ending up back out on the streets. I am not letting Alistair get away with this, even if he dies I want there to be evidence on record that he's a monster not a martyr!"

Concerned by Neal sudden angry out burst Mozzie put down the bottle of red and got to his feet. Uninterested in being calmed Neal pushed himself away from the counter and paced back and forth. Fearing that Neal was going to break the wine glass in his hands in his agitation Mozzie stepped up and took it away from him. Dragging his hands through his hair Neal cursed under his breath in frustration.

"Neal...you should just let the FBI handle Alistair. They'll get him."

"Will they?" Neal snarled. "How many crimes have I gotten away with right under their noses? The justice system doesn't work, Mozzie, not the way it should. I'm living proof of that."

"True, but that's different. For now I think you need to just focus on helping Peter."

"That's exactly what I'm doing."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Laying in bed Peter stared up at the white ceiling trying to will himself asleep with little success. He couldn't find a comfortable temperature, if he pulled the covers off it wasn't long before he was shivering and with even just a sheet on he found himself sweating. Elizabeth was curled up against him with her head resting on his chest. He wouldn't move her for the world, but with the added pressure his broken rib click painfully with his every breath. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand Peter discovered it was three in the morning.

So far this had been one of the longest nights that Peter could remember. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the frost pattern that had grown across the metal walls. He was finding the near silence of his bedroom worse than the constant mechanical hum of the freezer unit as it caused his blood to run cold at every tiny sound that broke the stillness. Resigning himself to a sleepless night Peter focused on Elizabeth's warmth against him.

Drifting in an out of a restless light sleep Peter slowly became aware of a wash of hot air that kept rushing over him. Turning his head to the side he found Satchmo sitting on the floor next to the bed with his head resting on the bed. Peter smiled at the dog and reached out to pet him only to have the brace get in the way. Frustrated by the hard plastic Peter brought it up to his face so that he could undo the velcro straps with his teeth. Shaking the brace off Peter ignored the protest the bone in the back of his hand made. Peter gently pet Satchmo and even though he knew the dog was soft his hand was telling him that he might as well be stroking a piece of steel wool.

"Good boy." Peter whispered to the loyal canine.

Happy with having his house back in order Satchmo wagged. Satchmo had not been happy while Elizabeth had been away in Colorado. In the evenings he would check every room in the house for her before coming to Peter and whimpering. Peter had assured Satchmo that he knew Elizabeth was missing and that he missed her too but that she would be back. Satchmo hadn't believed him and would go on the search for her again.

Thinking about Satchmo's behavior made Peter suddenly realize something. Part of what had helped him through his captivity was a very detailed memory of Elizabeth trying to keep him in bed that morning and him insisting that he loved her but that he had to go work. It wasn't exactly a false memory, but it had happened several weeks before. The morning he was abducted he had actually gone into work early because he was sleeping alone. He might not have been as easy to ambush if he had gone in at his regular time as the parking garage would have been fuller. Although concerned that whoever was behind this had probably known Elizabeth was away and that it would change his routine Peter was more fascinated by how well he had convinced himself that he'd had a chance to tell her that he loved her that morning.

"You were there for me then, and I'm here for you now" Peter whispered to his sleeping wife "that's all that matters."

Closing his eyes Peter was finally able to fall asleep. It seemed like only seconds had gone by before the morning sun was streaming in through the blinds. Although grateful to not have been plagued by nightmares Peter didn't feel particularly rested. Elizabeth had moved off his chest but she was still laying next to him. He looked over and found she was awake and probably had been for a few hours since they both tended to get up far earlier than it must be now. Seeing he was awake Elizabeth smiled brightly and Peter did the same.

"Morning, Hon." Peter purred.

"Morning." Elizabeth propped herself up and gave him a gentle kiss. "Hungry?"

"Starving." Peter lied knowing Elizabeth would want to busy herself cooking.

"I'll make breakfast."

"Coffee?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Decaf." Elizabeth said firmly.

"Decaf is so close to pointless I don't even know why they make it."

"Doctor said no caffeine for at least the a month, slows down healing."

"I won't make it that long without caffeine." Peter said only half jokingly.

"You'll just have to pretend you're drinking the high octane stuff." Elizabeth teased.

Peter chuckled and stole another kiss. Satchmo whined to let the pair know that he not only wanted breakfast as well but that he needed to go out. Elizabeth got out of bed and Satchmo raced down the stairs in front of her. A little slower to get up Peter sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and tried to settle the variety of sensations from tingling to burning to outright pain that assaulted him. A few deep breaths and he found he could filter out most of it.

Reaching out for the landline phone that was on his night stand for emergencies Peter instantly dropped it when the broken bone in the back of his hand protested. Growling at himself in disgust Peter retrieved his brace from the floor and put it back on before trying again. He had meant to call Neal last night, but in the end he had been too focused on being with Elizabeth. It took Peter a moment to recall Neal's number from memory since usually he just pressed the contact in his cell phone. However his phone had been stolen in the abduction and when Neal's number rang directly to voice mail he realized that the Marshals had probably taken his phone as evidence or Alistair had instructed him to destroy it. Peter called the FBI switch board and had them patch him through to one of the Agents that was on Neal's protection detail.

"Agent Finch."

"Richard," Peter greeted "it's Peter."

"I was actually just about to call you."

"What's going on?"

"Probably nothing, my partner Brian here thinks I'm just being paranoid."

"You're on protection detail, it's your job to be paranoid." Peter pointed out.

"That's what I told him." Finch chuckled. "Anyway, things are fairly quiet here, but I think someone is doing drive bys to check the place out. Different cars, but I swear it's the same guy driving."

"How many passes?"

"Three that I noticed over a four hour period. I can't be certain, but it feels like someone is waiting for us to leave or for him to step out."

"Plates?"

"Had them run, no red flag names so far." Finch replied. "Maybe Brian's right. A lot of people drive by here, it is a city of eight million after all."

"I still don't like it." Peter sighed. "Give me an hour...make that two, and then tell Neal to come over here, remind him not to use the front door, or the back one for that matter."

"How is he supposed to get out?"

"It's an old speakeasy house, there is some other way out other than the obvious." Peter explained. "Wait about an hour after he's gone and then leave yourselves, I'll have surveillance set up."

"See if our mystery driver makes a move?"

"Exactly."

"Two hours, got it."

"Thank you."

Peter realized that he should have cleared his plan with Hughes before hand, but at the same time it was far easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Luckily when Peter called Hughes was in a forgiving mood at the moment and agreed to the plan and said he would set up the surveillance as well as put Neal back on his usual two mile roaming. Peter could hear in Hughes tone that he was mostly just humoring him, but at this point Peter felt it was better to be on the side of caution.

Hanging up the phone Peter wished he could call Neal and give him a heads up on everything, but unlike Mozzie Peter didn't even know about the other phone in Neal's apartment. Finally getting out of bed Peter headed into a much needed shower. Much like the bed covers in the night Peter had a difficult time finding a water temperature that he was comfortable with. It didn't help that he couldn't get his wrist with the stitches wet, but he managed to get through it and feel cleaner when he was done.

Coming down stairs Peter smiled as he found Elizabeth frustrated with trying to create a fresh breakfast in their poorly stocked kitchen. She was making due and there was a mug of coffee waiting for him on the island counter which he wasn't entirely sure he wanted knowing that it would be decaf, which they only kept in the house for company that didn't drink regular. Elizabeth turned on Peter with a mock look of irritation.

"What keeps you from starving to death when I'm not home?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Take-out mostly." Peter admitted.

"Unacceptable. I need to teach you how to cook."

"You tried that once, remember?" Peter chuckled.

"Never did get that casserole dish clean." Elizabeth sighed.

Peter smiled, the domestic moment going a long way to helping him recover from the horrors of the past few days. When he stepped forward the scent of the coffee caught his attention. Decaf or not he did miss the comforting flavor. Remembering to reach out with his left hand that didn't have the brace Peter went to pick up the mug. Grabbing the mug Peter jerked back with a sharp cry of pain. The mug fell to the floor and shattered noisily. The ceramic had felt like it had just come out of a fire. He knew the searing heat wasn't real, but that hadn't kept it from being painful.

Elizabeth didn't say anything she just circled around the island counter with a towel to start cleaning up the mess. Peter crouched down to help, but he wasn't sure he could stand touching the shards. Taking a deep breath Peter reached out to pick up one of the larger pieces. Before he could touch it Elizabeth stopped him by blocking his path with her hand. Peter sighed heavily before giving in. Peter ground his teeth together in frustration. Alistair had planed his revenge well, or at least someone had. Peter had survived but staring down at his treasonous hand he started to worried that he might not get his life back.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

"Well...so much for this secret."

Neal pushed a set of wooden boxes away from the far wall of June's cellar. It took him a moment to find the edge of the hidden door. Prying it open he flicked on the flashlight he'd brought with him and shone it down the rough hewn stone tunnel. A family of rats scurried down the tunnel and back into the darkness. When Neal had first settled into June's he had gone looking for alternate routes out just in case he needed to leave in a hurry. He wasn't exactly sure where it lead to. Assuming it didn't follow streets and on his tracking anklet he didn't want record of him apparently walking through buildings rather than around them.

Peering down the dank tunnel Neal sighed heavily. He had been concerned enough when Peter had simply put a protection detail on him, having him escaping out of his apartment under the city was taking the paranoia a little far. Knowing that stalling in the cellar wasn't going to help Neal gripped the flashlight and ducked down as he stepped into the tunnel that was a few inches shorter than he was tall.

Neal encountered the rat and what he assumed were her four children several times as he made his way deeper into the underground passageway. After what Neal guessed was about a mile's worth of travel the tunnel ended in a flat wooden wall. Stepping up to the dead end Neal knocked on the barrier and was relieved to hear that it sounded hollow. Neal put his palms against the wood and pushed with far more force than was needed. The wood was rotted from decades of weather and broke free violently.

Neal stumbled forward through the shattered wood and ended up on his hands and knees. Disoriented by the sudden bright light that he found himself bathed in Neal blinked hard as he tried to adjust. Although the sun was shining at least the heatwave was finally giving up its suffocating hold on the city. Once he was able to look around Neal discovered that he was in a heavily wooded park with a steep cliff on one side that the tunnel exited from. There was a man walking his dog on a near by asphalt path who had stopped, both the dog and the owner were staring at him.

"Uh...hi." Neal smiled as he got to his feet and tried to rub the dirt off his hands on his pants. "Always wondered where this went. Uh...where am I?"

"Riverside Park." The man replied warily.

"Perfect. Thanks."

Furrowing his brow the man pulled on his dog's leash to continue their walk. Neal looked around to make sure that no one else had seen the entrance back to June's home. He collected up some branches and replaced the broken wood as best he could. He would need to have Mozzie come out quickly and put a proper hidden door across the entrance. Neal didn't need anyone sneaking into June's house through the tunnel in the park other than himself and Mozzie. Grateful that he'd worn dark pants Neal brushed his hands off on them again before finding his way out of the park and orienting himself towards Peter's house.

Arriving at Peter's house Satchmo was there at the window instantly pushing the curtain aside to greet him. Neal leaned to the side to peek inside the living room where he saw Elizabeth physically insisting that Peter stay seated on the couch while she got to her feet to answer the door. Opening the door Elizabeth invited Neal inside with a warm smile. She grabbed her keys off the davenport and exchanged places in the doorway with Neal.

"Elizabeth?" Neal asked concerned.

"There is no food in the house."

"Ah."

"Keep an eye on him for me?" Elizabeth asked sweetly.

"Of course." Neal assured.

From his place on the couch Peter shook his head at being left with a babysitter.

"Don't let him give you a hard time," Elizabeth added "he's in a bad mood."

"So...business as usual?" Neal chuckled.

"Pretty much." Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"Enough you two." Peter grumbled. "I watch over Neal, not the other way around."

"Whatever you say, Hon." Elizabeth teased.

Peter narrowed his eyes but there was a smile on his lips to prove to Elizabeth that he loved her despite the mocking. Neal hoped the banter between the couple was genuine and not just cover for his sake. Walking over towards Peter Neal sat down on loveseat opposite the couch that Peter was sitting on. Peter hadn't put on any socks, Neal assumed because it was too painful. His toes were a frightening cherry red with a few blisters where his skin had been in direct contact with the metal. Neal couldn't see the more dangerous damage on Peter's shins but what he could see gave him further resolve to find a way to get Alistair's fingerprints on Peter's gun. Getting close enough to him to get the print was going to be the trickiest part. He wasn't even sure how he was going to get back in the hospital let alone anywhere near the heavily guarded Alistair.

After a full minute passed with Neal just staring at his feet Peter clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to get Neal's attention since he couldn't snap his fingers. Pulled away from his thoughts Neal looked up and found Peter glaring at him expectantly. It was the look he gave Neal when he knew he'd done something wrong and was giving him a chance at coming clean before things got any worse. However for the first time Neal wasn't sure what Peter wanted to hear, he felt like they had already talked through why he had followed Alistair orders.

"Peter?"

"Where's my weapon, Neal?"

"What?"

"Don't you dare play ignorant with me." Peter said with a deadly calm. "Not now. Not about this. Diana told me about the bank robberies. I want my gun back, right now."

"I don't have it." Neal replied honestly.

"Then call Mozzie and have him bring it over."

"Peter..."

"Neal, please...you don't understand how important this is to me."

"I understand, honestly I do." Neal replied seriously. "But do you have any idea how much slack multiple parties in the FBI have already given me over all of this?"

"Enough to hang themselves with?" Peter guessed in defeat.

"And then some."

"Damn it, Neal..."

"It's safe, it's not loaded. Mozzie and I are working on a way to get it back to the FBI that doesn't involve me getting arrested and the DC office launching an internal affairs investigation on both the White Collar and the Violent Crimes divisions here in New York. I promise you'll get it back, give me three days."

"Forty-eight hours." Peter countered.

"Deal."

"What were you thinking going into a bank with a gun?" Peter sighed in frustration.

"You know exactly what I was thinking."

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath before just nodding slightly. Leaning forward Peter rested his elbows on his knees to support his weight. Keeping his head bowed Peter stared vacantly at the floor. Becoming increasingly concerned Neal leaned forward. Peter had said before that he wasn't angry with him, but now Neal wasn't so sure.

"Peter..." Neal hesitated. "Are we okay?"

"We are." Peter replied sincerely. "I'm just frustrated. I'm looking for something that I can control and I'm not really find it anywhere."

"Is that why there's a protection detail outside my apartment? Or why I had to crawl through a mile of rat infested bootlegger tunnel to get here?"

"Rat infested?" Peter asked with a slight smile.

"Infested might be a bit of an exaggeration." Neal admitted. "You really should call it off though, I don't want to get you in trouble with Hughes. Alistair isn't coming after me."

"It's not Alistair I'm worried about."

Neal gave Peter a confused look. Peter went over everything with Neal that he had with Diana about Alistair and his theory that he hadn't acted alone or even as the main brains behind the highly coordinated attack. Neal listened without interruption until Peter was finished. Talking about the events like a case seemed to improved Peter's mood as he took his mind off his own problems and focused on trying to solve the larger crime at hand.

"So, what do you think?" Peter asked. "Am I crazy?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"You know how things never sound as good out loud as in your head? Well they sound even worse on the second telling."

"You know Alistair better than I do. If you think he was being used, then there is a good chance you're right."

"We need to find a connection between those three banks. There had to be something."

"At one point Alistair mentioned that he was using the robberies to spread the FBI's resources thin, I assumed it was to make it more difficult for them to concentrate on finding you."

"Maybe." Peter said doubtfully. "Three bank robberies isn't really enough to distract the FBI from a hostage situation."

"But like you said it might be enough to distract from some other crime."

"It's just sounds like too much work just create a diversion." Peter said playing devil's advocate. "What could be big enough that it would be worth all that trouble, but small enough that it didn't instantly catch our attention?"

"What if it wasn't the FBI that was meant to be distracted?" Neal asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If there is someone else behind this and it was a diversion, then it stands to reason that there is also another party as an intended target. Maybe the target is connected to the banks somehow."

"Now there is a thought." Peter nodded. "My first thought would be something about the safety deposit boxes."

"Nothing makes people with something to hide in a deposit box more nervous than a bank robbery. But again, why you? Why me? It doubles back to it being way too much trouble when you could have easily had anyone do a sloppy job of holding up three banks."

"Which is why I still think the end game had or has something to do with you. I think the last task Alistair would have set you on would have been more commensurate with your 'skills'. Presumably something you could do in a short amount of time."

"Safe cracking? I'm allegedly really good at that."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"I said 'allegedly'." Neal chuckled.

"As if that magically makes it okay."

"Still if someone wanted to force me into doing something why not just take you themselves and do everything directly without all the expense and complications of going through Alistair?"

"As a buffer." Peter said simply. "The FBI descended upon Alistair, meanwhile if there was someone else involved they could be half way around the world by now."

"But you don't think they are, you think they are still going to come after me?"

"I really do. I just don't know what to do about it."

"I guess we wait to see if they hit my apartment. Although more than likely whatever they wanted was time sensitive. Alistair had a very tight time schedule."

"In which case there would be no sense in exposing themselves by making another play towards you."

"Exactly. More than likely we'll never hear from them again."

"I hate the idea of never knowing what this was really about."

"I know, but all in all I think we can safely say that we still won this round." Neal smiled.

Peter nodded but Neal could see that he wasn't satisfied to have simply 'survived' the ordeal. He wanted answers and that was not only understandable, but also a good sign that his basic personality was still intact. It wouldn't have been an unreasonable reaction to want to just pull away and hide from what happened rather than face it head on and try to make sense of it and work to find actual justice rather than just seek revenge. Neal could believe Peter's theory about there being another party involved, but at the same time he didn't feel unsafe. After what happened to Alistair he was confident that anyone who might have been using him as a shield would cut their losses.

Neal was just about to suggest to Peter that he voice his concerns to Hughes and let him deal with it so that he could focus on himself when something started ringing. Peter didn't respond to the unfamiliar ring tone at first until he realized it was coming from his pocket. Struggling with his braced hand he pulled a new model of his old phone and answered it. Neal assumed that someone from the office had stopped by with a new phone for Peter and he was sharply reminded of how he needed new phone as well. As though reading Neal's mind Peter reached into his other pocket while he listened to the caller and tossed Neal a phone. Catching the phone Neal opened it and was surprised to find that it was actually his own phone back from the Marshals, glad to have it back he slipped it into his pocket.

"I understand." Peter told the caller simply before hanging up.

Peter contemplated the phone in his hands as though running through in his head what he had wanted to say rather than what he had actually said. He looked around his living room without really seeing it before sighing heavily and putting the phone back in his pocket. Whatever the caller had said it had darkened his mood once more.

"What was that about?" Neal asked.

"Alistair's awake."

"Oh." Neal replied as a chill ran through his blood. "Peter..."

"Come on," Peter said suddenly as he got his bare feet "we have to go to the hospital."

"What? Why?"

"Alistair says he has some important information."

"And he'll only talk to you." Neal guessed.

"A little cliche, but yes."

"What are the odds that he actually has anything useful to say? I think it's far more likely that he just wants to taunt you further."

"I have to at least hear him out."

"Why?"

"It's my job."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

"This really is a nice car. Why don't I get to drive it more often or ever for that matter?"

"Because you don't have a driver's license."

"Nick Halden has one." Neal chuckled.

"Just please don't get pulled over." Peter said seriously. "I am not in the mood to explain to an officer that I'm on too many drugs to drive so I decided to let an unlicensed convict do it for me…wait, why did I agree to this?"

"Too many drugs?"

Peter knew Neal had meant the response as a joke but as his mind swum when Neal turned the car Peter feared that he really had taken a bit too much. He hadn't planed on using much of the oxycodone prescription the doctor had sent him home with, however with having to face Alistair the last thing he wanted was to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. He taken two since one had barely taken the edge off the night before, and they were doing their job, but not being used to the powerful narcotic jumping to a double dose was clouding his thinking more than he'd like.

"Peter?" Neal asked concerned noticing how distracted Peter was. "Are you sure you should be talking to Alistair?"

"I have to."

"Hughes isn't really forcing you into this is he?"

"No."

"Then you don't have to do it, and certainly not if you're doing it just for me. If someone is still gunning for me you and I can handle it without Alistair."

"I can't ignore a potential lead because I'm uncomfortable with it. There is no harm talking to him."

"I disagree." Neal said darkly.

"Thank you, Neal, that means a lot to me." Peter replied warmly.

"What?" Neal asked confused.

"You're concerned for my mental health, you don't want to see Alistair hurt me again even if it's psychologically." Peter reached over and put his hand on Neal's shoulder. "I appreciate that. I don't say this very often, but you're a good friend, certainly the best one I've ever had. I'm glad I'm the one who caught you."

Neal took his eyes off the road for a second and gave Peter a sideways glance to see if he looked as drunk as he sounded. Peter hadn't even realized how uncharacteristically affectionate he was feeling until he noticed Neal's concerned look. Pulling his hand away from Neal's shoulder Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to focus.

"Those pain killers really are throwing you for a loop, aren't they?"

"They really are." Peter admitted.

"Can I suggest we stop for some coffee before the hospital? You can not go in there feeling all 'warm and fuzzy'."

"Agreed."

Neal changed course and headed towards one of his favorite coffee shop. Peter noticed that he took full advantage of the Federal license plates allowing him to park anywhere as he picked a no parking zone in front of the cafe. Since it wasn't in front of a fire hydrant Peter let it go. Needing a little time to let the drugs wear off a bit they got out of the car and went inside. Noticing that Peter was limping despite his best efforts Neal had him sit a table by the front window while he fetched them coffee. Peter stared out the window at the bright summer morning and watched the city go about its day. He tried not to let his thoughts wander back to the feeling of being trapped but even the gentle air conditioner in the cafe prickled his sensitive skin. Trying to distract himself Peter adjusted the wrist brace that constantly bothered him in a futile attempt to make it more comfortable.

When Neal returned with coffee he silently joined Peter in watching the people out on the street, Peter was grateful that Neal wasn't being his usual chatty self at the moment. Turning his attention away from the outside world Peter studied Neal. If he had been told two years ago that the brash conman would one day risk his own life to save his Peter would have never believed it. Although finding himself proud of Neal and how far he had come he kept quiet about it for now. He didn't really want to encourage Neal's reckless behavior even though it had saved him. Not trusting what he might say Peter nursed at the powerful coffee. Even with the help of the caffeine that he wasn't supposed to be drinking it still took Peter nearly an hour to feel more himself. Eventually he decided that he was just stalling the inevitable and he should go now while he was thinking a little more clearly but still had some of the pain relieving help of the drugs.

"Okay." Peter pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go."

"Are you sober now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Anytime," Neal smiled brightly "it's what best friends are for."

"No more drugs for me."

"Don't give up on them so quickly, I'd like to renegotiate my release contract and I think it would go a lot better if you were high."

"Never going to happen."

"You know they say if you love something set it free."

"Looks like we are still a long ways away from love."

Neal chuckled and Peter managed to smile as well. Returning to the car Peter was tempted to take over driving, but Neal still had the keys and slipped into the driver's seat before an argument could be started, which was probably for the best anyway. They made it to the hospital without incident and Neal pulled up to the front to take advantage of the valet parking so Peter wouldn't have to walk as far. As they made their way through the lobby Peter checked his phone, he had hoped that someone would have moved in on Neal's apartment now that the Agent's were no longer outside, but so far no one had.

Putting the phone away Peter walked with Neal over to the bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. When one of the elevators arrived Neal stepped on. Peter went to follow but found himself stopped at the threshold as if there was a sheet of glass suddenly in his way as he was unable to step into the confined space. The ICU was on the ground floor so he hadn't had to brave the elevator to leave, but for security reasons Alistair had been moved to a lesser used wing on an upper floor. Swallowing hard Peter tried to find the courage to join Neal only to find himself taking a step back instead. The brushed metal walls of the elevator triggered too visceral a response to be ignored and his heart raced painfully at the thought of being trapped inside. When Peter moved back Neal had to step forward to keep the door from automatically sliding shut.

"Peter, what's wro…" Neal stopped himself as he realized the issue.

"Just give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need, but maybe we should take the stairs instead."

"I can't." Peter shook his head. "It's six flights, I can barely make it up to my second story bedroom. Beyond that, I live in New York, I need to be able to use an elevator."

"Yes, but…"

Peter didn't let Neal finish his thought. Stepping forward purposefully he put his hand on Neal's chest and gently pushed him back out of the way so that he could step inside the claustrophobia inducing elevator. Trying to help get the experience over quickly Neal reached out and pushed the button for the sixth floor so that Peter didn't have to turn around and watch the door close him inside. It was a short ride but by the time they reached the sixth floor Peter was panting for breath against a powerful panic attack. Frustrated with his reaction Peter ground his teeth as he forced himself to take a deep breath. He didn't even notice when the elevator opened again. Neal used the same gentle pressure on Peter's chest to back him out of the elevator that Peter had used to back him in.

"You made it." Neal said encouragingly.

Peter just nodded, already dreading the idea that he was going to have to do it again to get down. Before he could think about it too much Peter headed down the empty hall towards the double doors that were being guarded by an Agent. This wing was closed for future remodeling but the hospital had easily been able to open it back up to allow for higher security care of Alistair. The empty wing had the added advantage of reducing the risk of other patients getting caught in the cross fire if there was another attack on Alistair.

The Agent at the door knew Peter and let him and Neal through without question. Past the doors there were a few staff members sitting at the nurse's station across from the room that they had set Alistair up in which had two Agents standing outside. The floor used to be an old psych unit and the room across the nursing station had a large glass window so that they could keep an eye on a patient without having to be in the room with them at all times.

Peter walked up to the window and looked in on the sleeping Alistair. The thin man didn't look much better than the last time he had seen him. He was breathing on his own, but it looked labored even at rest and he was still the same pale color as the sheets. Alistair didn't look threatening in any sense of the word but it still turned Peter's stomach to look at him. As if sensing that he was being watched Alistair suddenly opened his eyes. Peter watched as his former CI and tormentor panicked upon waking. He cried out hoarsely and pulled weakly at the long chain hand cuffs that kept both of his wrists secured to the metal rails. Welding his eyes shut he went through some kind of breathing ritual before settling down. Knowing what he'd been through in the past Peter guessed that Alistair often woke frightened.

Even watching the display Peter still couldn't empathize with Alistair, despite his best efforts all he could find in his heart was anger. Having calmed himself Alistair turned his head to the side and caught sight of his audience. The smug grin that spread across his thin face boiled Peter's blood further but he was careful not to let it show. Glancing at Neal he found that his friend was not doing as good a job keeping his emotions checked and was openly wearing his heart on his sleeve as he glared spitefully at Alistair. Neal reached out to open the door to Alistair's room but Peter stopped him.

"No." Peter said firmly. "Stay out here, Neal."

"Peter, just let me come with you at first. If he kicks me out that's fine, I'll go."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's going to be hard enough keeping myself from killing Alistair, I can't also be worried about having to stop you."

"Peter, I'm not going to..."

"Neal, I know you're trying to help, but I don't want you going anywhere near Alistair…or anything he might have touched."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-three

"Agent Burke, it's good to see you again." Alistair purred. "How long has it been?"

"I'm not here to play games with you, Alistair. I'm just here for your statement."

"So formal." Alistair noted mockingly. "Is this really how the FBI trained you to treat an asset? I remember you being a lot more tolerant of my small talk ten years ago. You wanted something from me then, and you need something from me now so I suggest you engage in some pleasantries with me. How have you been lately? You're looking a little worse for wear. Something happen to you?"

Remaining outwardly calm Peter mentally counted backwards from ten to help him with his internal flash of rage. He hadn't been sure if Alistair was going to gloat or if he was going to play innocent. Peter was finding his poorly performed innocents act striking a nerve. When Neal feigned innocents Peter always got the impression that not only did Neal genuinely believe in his own rationalization but that for the most part he also believed that he was doing it for some greater good beyond just keeping himself out of trouble. With Alistair he was just twisting the knife to see if Peter would wince.

"Agent Burke?" Alistair asked. "You still with me?"

"That depends on what you have to say."

"You are just determined to make this reunion of ours all business, aren't you?" Alistair sighed. "I've been fine by the way. Right up until I got shot by an overly aggressive FBI task force I was having a really good week. I got to play with some new toys, chatted with an old friend, a real captive audience, I met someone new who hung on my every word. The whole thing was just such a power trip."

Peter was starting to think that Neal had been right about this being a waste of effort and time. Alistair was clearly enjoying the chance to needle at him, and even if he wasn't getting an emotional reaction he was still getting a show. Every second Peter spent in the room was just making it more difficult to keep from showing his physical discomfort as the soles of his feet began to protest louder about having to bear his weight. Unable to put his hands on his hips he was just letting them hang at his sides, but felt like an awkward position to be in. He realized that he was making such an effort to hide his discomfort from Alistair that he was holding unnaturally still.

Outside of the room through the thick sound proof glass Neal was doing his best to look calm and casual. Peter could only hope that he was doing a better job than Neal at hiding his own anxiety. Neal had slipped his hands into his pockets but he was turning his cell phone around in his hand inside his pocket. Rather than standing oddly still the way Peter was he was subtly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, not enough to cause him to sway but enough to affect the angle of his hips. To the average observer Neal was just standing there looking bored to Peter his nervous energy was as obvious as a race horse prancing at the gate.

Peter was able to catch Neal's eye and give him an almost imperceptible shake of his head to let Neal know he wasn't helping. Not reacting at first Neal waited a moment before looking around like he'd heard something. Pulling his cell phone out he pretended to answer a phone call and used it as an excuse to step out of view. The silent exchange between them had taken less than five seconds, but Alistair had noticed.

"That kind of communication takes a lot of trust. I take it he doesn't know that it's only a matter of time before you get him killed or worse?" Alistair asked conversationally. "Caffrey will be...what? The fourth CI you've failed to protect?"

"I can't help anyone who doesn't even try to help themselves."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night."

"I sleep just fine." Peter lied.

"I did too for the first few days, it took a full week for the dust to settle in my head enough for the nightmares to truly take hold. Post-traumatic stress is an insidious disease." A thin smile split Alistair's pale lips. "It starts with obvious things, difficulty with small spaces, nausea when the air condition kicks in. However it evolves over time to involve triggers that don't even make sense, like a dog barking, or even just a moment of unexpected silence. Before long there isn't a single shadow you aren't jumping at and you're snarling spitefully at people you once loved. The real fun is when you start waking up in the middle of the night genuinely uncertain if it's sweat or piss soaking your sheets…"

Peter stood half listening to Alistair's rant with little interest. He wasn't above admitting to himself that he was having some psychological issues at the moment, but he was also confident that it would pass without developing into true PTSD. Between Elizabeth, Neal, and his team at White Collar he had a strong base of support and a desire to get past what Alistair had put him through. Alistair had refused all attempts to help him, and had clearly spent the past ten years dwelling on the events.

It took Peter a minute to notice that not only had Alistair stopped talking but that the gentle deep tone from his heart monitor was warning the room about his heart rate. Peter glanced up at the monitor and noticed that Alistair's heart was pounding at nearly 130 beats per minute. He had been trying to taunt Peter about his future, but had only reminded himself of his own past. Snarling in frustration Alistair reached into the collar of his hospital gown, having to strain the chains around his wrists to get there, and yanked the wires out that had him hooked up to the heart alarm. The hospital staff in the glass office across the hall were watching their patient carefully, but hadn't deemed him critical enough to interrupt the meeting.

Alistair was struggling for breath as he yanked at the metal cuffs with a surprising amount of strength as he fell deeper into panic. The calm cat playing with his mouse was gone, replaced by a man on the edge of madness from fear and anger. Peter recognized the sudden shift in mood as one of the tell tale signs of the PTSD that Alistair had been trying to mock him with. Seeing how much pain Alistair was in still didn't help with Peter's empathy towards him, but it did earn him Peter's pity. Eventually Alistair forced himself to lay still as he glared spitefully at Peter, personally blaming him for the last ten years of his life.

"Are you finished?" Peter asked like a parent refusing to react to a child's tantrum.

"You're going to be finished if you don't start showing me some respect."

"Respect? You should feel honored that I'm even standing her listening to you rant."

"If you don't give me what I want they are going to tear Caffrey apart!" Alistair spat aggressively. "You think you're in bad shape mentally now? Just wait until you're trying to clear his blood curdling screaming and desperate begging out of your head, and they are going to make you watch every second of it!"

"Alistair…"

"You'll be begging them to let you murder him yourself before they are half way finished! Just pray they don't go after your wife when they are done with him!"

Even in his rage Alistair could tell he'd gone too far by mentioning Elizabeth. Squaring his shoulders making himself look larger Peter took an aggressive step forward causing Alistair's pale blue eyes to fill with fear. With his jaw pulled tight from clenching his teeth Peter wanted nothing more than to get his hands around Alistair's throat, he even reached over and undid one of the velco straps on his brace to better able himself for the brutal attack.

Peter was distracted from his murderous intent by a rapid tapping on the glass. Looking over he found Neal standing in front of the room once again with one palm against the glass, having been alerted to trouble by Alistair's angry shouting. The Agents standing guard didn't seem to care if Peter murdered their charge, but the expression on Neal's face was one of deep concern that Peter was about to do something that he'd instantly regret.

Taking a deep breath Peter stepped back and forced himself to calm. He reattached the strap on the brace and gave Neal a quick nod to let him know he had himself back under control. Neal relaxed slightly, but he wasn't about to step out of sight again. Alistair was still watching Peter apprehensively, but he also regained some of his previous cocky confidence. Peter pulled his attention away from Neal and back to the problem at hand.

"Threatening my family isn't going to get me to help you, Alistair."

"I don't need your help," Alistair hissed "you need mine."

"I don't think I do. You're not worried about Neal." Peter replied confidently. "You're worried about what they are going to do to you. Not only have you opened yourself back up to attack from the Scapine family, but you made a lot of promises to someone else when you agreed to all of this. Promises you didn't deliver on."

"Are you really willing to risk Caffrey's life on the off chance that you're right?"

"Neal isn't going to run from me at the first sign of danger the way you did. We can deal with this without you."

"You haven't even asked me what I want."

"I know what you want, full protection, and immunity. I can offer you protection, in fact you already have it. Stay with the FBI and WitSec programs and we will do everything in our power to keep you safe."

"That isn't going to be enough unless you know what you're dealing with."

"Then tell me."

"No way. Not until I have guaranteed immunity in writing."

"Never going to happen."

"Make it happen." Alistair snarled.

"It's not my call. You kidnapped a Federal Agent, you are never going to get immunity from that. Best case scenario for you is that you cooperate and we will get you transferred to a Federal prison across the country under a new name so that you have half a chance of not being murdered in the yard during your first twenty-four hours."

"I haven't been formally charged with anything." Alistair pointed out loftily.

"It's only a matter of time."

"You can't even lie like you mean it when you say that." Alistair smiled coldly. "Face it, Agent Burke, you need me."

"I really don't."

"You are not going to be able to figure this out on your own." Alistair growled as he started to get frustrated again.

"I don't have to." Peter glanced over at Neal who was still standing guard outside. "It's why I'm part of a team. I depend on them, and they depend on me in return. There is great strength in numbers, but when you only look out for yourself you always end up alone."

"Save me your sappy speech, Burke." Alistair rolled his eyes in disgust. "You have exactly one hour to get my immunity deal or you might as well just put a bullet in Caffrey yourself to save him and yourself a great deal of pain."

Peter started at the obviously frightened and broken man caught in a snare of his own making and sighed. When he had met Alistair ten years ago he had feared right from the start that it was going to end poorly. Alistair clearly only ever had his own interests in mind to a pathological degree. Neal certainly had his selfish moments, however at his heart he not only wanted to make personal connections with others he also wanted them to make one with him. Alistair didn't have that important trait, people were only objects to be used. Peter didn't like thinking of anyone as a lost caused, but he couldn't think of any way to get through to Alistair that hadn't already failed. Shaking his head sadly Peter turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Alistair demanded.

"I wish I could have helped you, ten years ago or even ten minutes ago, but it's clear that I can't." Peter stepped back up to the bed and awkwardly reached into his breast pocket with his left hand to retrieve a business card which he placed on the night stand next to the hospital bed. "Good luck, Alistair, call me if you change your mind."

Peter made a point to look up at Neal with a slight smile. Neal instantly brighten, slipping his hands into his pockets he truly relaxed. He knew when a battle had been won even if the war wasn't over. Alistair looked between the pair trying to figure out what was happening. Neal ran his hand down his side to point out to Alistair that he had conned him with the gunshot. Alistair turned way from Neal and narrowed his eyes at Peter. Using Neal against Peter hadn't turned out in any way like he'd expected it to and he was running out of cards to play. Peter didn't expect Alistair to incriminate himself, but he did know that his sense of self preservation was powerful. Hoping to get him to say something that might help even in the slightest Peter walked swiftly towards the door to give Alistair the impression that his last chance wasn't going to last long. Peter got to the glass door and was about to slide it open.

"Peter…" Alistair whimpered.

"Yes?"

"…don't look at the banks, look at the buildings."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

Left outside the room Neal stood near the glass essentially watching Alistair torturing Peter again. Alistair had a reptilian smile slung across his lips as he chatted casually with Peter. The thick glass kept his words indistinguishable, but the general condescending tone came across in the muffled dialogue. Peter was doing his best to look professional and yet disinterested at the same time. Neal had seen him use the tactic before with great success. It was common for people to crave the attention and often times approval of authority figures. By only giving a subject part of his focus Peter encourage them to tell him more without having to ask a single question as they tested bolder and more detailed statements in an effort to garner his undivided attention.

It seemed to be working on some level, Alistair was certainly doing most of the talking. However Peter was trying a little too hard to distance himself from Alistair and instead of looking disinterested he looked more disconnected. Holding almost perfectly still Peter appeared like he'd become lost in a dark thought and had ceased to listen to Alistair at all. All in all Peter looked like he would rather be stuck back in the freezer than dealing with Alistair, making Neal even more confused as to why Peter agreed to this nightmarish meeting.

Frustrated with once again not being able to help Neal slipped his hands into his pocket and absent mindedly played with his phone. Neal was starting to think about ignoring Peter's request and joining him in Alistair's room anyway. As if on cue Peter glanced up at him and shook his head slightly. Neal got the message even if he didn't want to. He was trying to help, but he was just making things worse. After waiting a moment Neal pretended that his phone was ringing to give him a graceful excuse to step away from the glass.

"Hey, Mozzie. We have a problem." Neal pretended to answer the phantom call. "Peter's developing physic abilities. I know…no good can come of that."

Neal stepped down to the empty room next door and stepped inside for some privacy. Taking a deep breath he sighed heavily. He was only half kidding about Peter suddenly becoming skilled at ESP. Rather than the stress of the last few days clouding his thoughts Peter had become highly focused, particularly when it came to reading Neal's plans against Alistair.

"Of all times not to turn a blind eye." Neal muttered to himself.

Neal knew Peter's faith in the system was absolute, but having gotten away with a slew of crimes, some of them even while in the employ of the FBI, Neal did not share his idealism. Still not convinced that there was a 'mastermind' behind this Neal wanted to focus on what their were going to do, legal or otherwise, to ensure Alistair didn't go free. With his phone still in hand Neal called Mozzie just in case he'd thought of something.

"Neal," Mozzie greeted "how's Peter?"

"Mozzie," Neal smiled "you sound genuinely concerned."

"Yeah, well, if the Suit can't 'suit' you go back to prison." Mozzie covered.

"I hadn't thought of that."

"What? You thought they'd just let you go or set you up with a different Agent?"

"No, I mean I hadn't even thought about the idea that this might end Peter's career as a field Agent."

"I hate to say this, but keep it in mind, we might have to move fast if…"

"Mozzie," Neal interrupted not wanting to think about Peter being unable to truly recover right now "we will cross that bridge if we come to it. We have more pressing issues right now."

"Like what we are going to do with Peter's gun? I really don't like guns, Neal. I like them even less when they belong to a Federal Agent, are part of an active investigation, and are in my apartment. It's a bad combination all around and the sooner we can deal with it the better."

"Peter knows you have it." Neal admitted.

"Even worse."

"And he's not letting me within twenty feet of anything Alistair might have left a fingerprint on. Plus if I put a print on it now he's going to know it was me, and he's made it very clear that he doesn't want me framing Alistair."

"So I can just go ahead and mail it back to him? Does he want it sent to the office or his house?"

"Mozzie, this is serious. That gun is the only piece of evidence we have that we can use to make sure charges are brought up against Alistair."

"Can I point out an obvious flaw in your plan?"

"The fact that I don't have one?"

"Neal, it doesn't matter what plan you come up with, if Peter knows I have the gun there is *no* way to use it as evidence against Alistair without Peter knowing it was you."

Neal fell silent, he hadn't thought of that and it made him realize that he wasn't thinking clearly in general lately. He had convinced himself that Peter was never going to be the same if Alistair went free, and although that might be true he would be even worse off knowing Alistair faced justice only because of falsified evidence. Closing his eyes against a mounting headache Neal reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Neal?"

"Just get the gun back to the FBI. Peter will never forgive me if set Alistair up."

"Agreed."

"He's going to get away with it, Mozzie." Neal sighed heavily.

"Maybe." Mozzie admitted. "But that's out of your hands, Neal. The important thing is you stopped him before…"

Neal's attention was sharply pulled away from Mozzie when he suddenly heard angry shouting coming from the room next door. Hastily informing him he had to go Neal hung up on Mozzie and rushed back out into the hall to see what was going on. Far from stoically allowing Alistair to rant Peter looked about three seconds from murdering the man currently chained to the hospital bed. With pure hatred burning in his eyes Peter stepped forward while starting to yank off his wrist brace in preparation for what was doubtlessly going to be a brutal attack.

Although usually more level headed than being able to talked into physical violence Peter had understandable not been himself lately and Neal had no doubt Alistair was in serious danger. Neal couldn't care less about what happened to Alistair but he knew Peter would regret even laying a single finger on Alistair for the rest of his life even if he didn't end up killing him. Not having time to do anything else Neal rapped his fingertips against the glass to distract Peter. Glancing at Neal gave Peter the moment he needed to remember himself.

Stepping back away from the frightened Alistair Peter visually centered himself before securing his brace again. He gave Neal a quick nod of thanks before returning to his conversation. Neal took his hand off the glass, but he stayed close by in case he had to intervene again. To Neal's relief the rest of the meeting went quickly and seemed to go in Peter's favor. Eventually Peter even offered Alistair a business card. Neal had been on edge since Peter had first told him that they were going to visit Alistair, but when Peter looked up at Neal and smiled Neal realized that Peter had needed this. He'd faced the demon and won, despite losing himself along the way for a moment.

When Alistair turned to look at him Neal couldn't help but run his hand down his side to show him that he hadn't been shot. Alistair narrowed his eyes spitefully at Neal, but when he noticed that Peter was leaving fear filled his pale eyes. The expression on Alistair's face was the first sense Neal had that perhaps Peter was right about there being someone else out there that was worse. Peter turned back as Alistair meekly asked for his attention. Neal wasn't sure what he said but he got the feeling that the meeting hadn't been as pointless as he'd feared it was going to be.

Smiling brightly Neal stepped up as Peter walked out of the room. He was about to ask Peter about the encounter when he noticed the fine bead of sweat at his hairline. Peter had seemed okay a second ago, but now that he was out of the room he looked like he might pass out at any moment. Slipping in on his far side to make sure Alistair couldn't see what he was doing Neal hooked his hand up under Peter's arm to help him in case he fell.

Neal tried to lead Peter down to the next room over but he insisted on putting more distance between himself and Alistair. Peter barely made it through the door of the empty hospital room before his knees gave out on him. Already having a hold on him Neal was able to help him to the floor. Unable to be comfortable even sitting Peter went ahead and laid down on his back on the hard floor. Neal sat down next to him, noticing his quick shallow breathing.

"Should I go get help?" Neal asked concerned.

"No." Peter shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling. "I'll be alright. I've just been on my feet too long."

"Did Alistair tell you anything worth while?"

"Not really. Just to look at the buildings the banks are in."

"We would have probably been doing that ourselves right now if we weren't here."

"Still worth the trip." Peter muttered as he closed his eyes, looking like he might actually fall asleep. "He reminded me of something very important."

"What's that?"

"I don't have to do this alone."

"You'd forgotten that?"

"No...but I've never forgotten that Elizabeth loves me either."

"But it's still heartening to hear a reminder?" Neal smiled.

"Exactly."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

Peter jolted awake with the vague haze of a nightmare clouding his thoughts. Staring up at an unfamiliar white ceiling poured adrenaline into his blood. Disoriented he was having trouble remembering which events over the past few days were real and what was just imagined and if he was still in trouble now or not. Before he could decide whether or not violent action or at least panic was warranted Neal appeared in his vision upside down looking at him with a look of concern. It took Peter a second to figure out that Neal was letting him use his lap as a pillow causing the odd angle that he was looking down at him. Seeing Peter was awake Neal smiled at him.

"Good morning," Neal greeted "or rather afternoon."

"What's going on?"

"You fell asleep."

"What?" Peter turned his head enough to look at the empty hospital room that he was starting to remember. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I tried. You were out like a light. I even had one of the nurses come in an check on you. The consensus was that it was best to let you sleep. It's only been a few hours."

"We don't have time for this." Peter growled as he sat up despite his body's protests.

"Peter…"

Peter ignored Neal's attempts to get him to relax and worked to try and get to his feet. Stiff from having been on the floor Peter had far more trouble getting up than he felt he should be having. Unable to really push against the floor with either hand without pain didn't help, nor did the fact that pain lanced down his shins when he tried to get to his knees. Neal got up and circled around Peter so that he could reach down and brace his hands behind Peter's elbows. Neal leaned back while Peter leaned forward and he was able to use Neal as a counter weight to pull himself up. It didn't take more than a few seconds for his feet to start bothering him, but he was determined to ignore it.

"Thank you."

"Come on, I'll take you home." Neal offered.

"No. Someone has Alistair spooked enough to ask me for help and I have to figure out who it is."

"Peter I will admit that Alistair looked scared, but if he was really worried about some employer coming after him why didn't he just give you a name?"

"Because he knows me." Peter admitted. "He's not going to incriminate himself by giving any names when he knows he doesn't have to."

"He just has to point you in the right direction and you'll do the rest of the work?"

Peter just nodded.

"I admire his faith in you, but it kinda pisses me off at the same time."

"You and me both." Peter managed a slight smile.

"He's not wrong though." Neal pointed out.

"I'm okay with that." Peter said seriously. "So first things first…"

"First things first is that you need to get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Peter..."

"I said I'm okay, Neal." Peter said more firmly. "What banks did he have you hit?"

"Ridgewood Savings, First Republic, and Safra National." Neal gave in.

"Anything in particular stand out about the buildings?"

"No, but I was fairly distracted at the time. Do they mean anything to you?"

"Not immediately, but with Alistair involved we are most likely dealing with organized crime of some description. Let's do a drive by, see if anything stands out."

"Alright," Neal agreed knowing that argument was pointless "but I get to drive."

Peter ignored Neal's concerned look and headed towards the door. Once in the hall Peter hesitated with which direction to turn in. There was probably a way out that didn't involve walking past Alistair's room. However it wasn't immediately obvious so Peter made a quick decision to just leave the way they came. Peter couldn't help glancing over at Alistair. Catching sight of him Alistair raised his arm and waved, revealing that he was no longer wearing the cuffs that had tethered him to the bed before. There was a man in a fine cut suit in the room with Alistair that Peter assumed was a lawyer. Alistair wouldn't need a low level public defender, there would be plenty of high priced lawyers willing to take his case against the FBI for unlawful use of force for a cut of the profits.

"We could only hold him without formal charges for so long." Peter explained unnecessarily. "Not that he's medically stable enough to go anywhere."

"In that case we should let the Agents guarding him go home, let nature take its course." Neal suggested hopefully.

"He's still part of WitSec and an attempt was made on his life because of us. He has full rights to FBI protection."

"Even as he sues you?"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Neal."

"Then let's go prove it."

Peter smiled, proud that Neal hadn't used the opening to bring up the idea of planting evidence against Alistair. It hadn't been hard to guess that Neal wanted to get one of Alistair's prints to place on his gun to tie him to the crime and secure a conviction. Neal had a tendency to believe that two wrongs could make a right. Peter felt that if he could convince Neal otherwise that it would go a long way towards actually rehabilitating him for the day that his anklet came off. He hoped by making himself clear that even in a case as personal and extreme as Alistair's that all of the laws and rules still applied that Neal might learn by example. What Peter would never admit to was how tempting it was to let Neal take care of Alistair his way.

"Peter?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You automatically followed me this far lost in thought, but I think you're going to have to focus to take the next step."

Peter hadn't even realized that he'd let Neal lead him back to the elevators. Just like before he'd become frozen at the threshold. He ground his teeth in frustration at how easily he had lost awareness of his surroundings. It was dangerous to become distracted and if he was ready to be honest with himself he'd tell Neal to drive him home. Fearing the case was too important and determined to prove to himself that he was still capable Peter ironically pushed his better judgement aside. Stepping onto the elevator he forced an outward calm despite the fact that his blood was running cold while his skin prickled with heat at being in the tight space.

"That seemed easier." Neal noted encouragingly as they stepped off.

"It was." Peter lied.

Neal gave Peter a brief suspicious look, but he didn't challenge him. Peter was just grateful to make it to the car before he started limping too noticeably. Without making any comment Neal opened the passenger side for Peter before looping around to the driver's side. With the Percocet fully worked out of his system it was increasingly painful to touch anything. Pulling the door closed didn't take nearly as much force as opening it and he appreciated Neal allowing him to do at least that much for himself.

"Are you sure I can't talk you into going home?" Neal asked.

"Neal…" Peter growled.

"Got it, first stop Ridgewood Savings."

Peter did his best to stay alert as Neal drove through the busy city streets towards the first bank on the list. Once they got there Neal parked across the street to give them a good view of the building without actually having to get out. The glass skyscrapper didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. New York had plenty of beautifully designed buildings, but it also had its fair share of bland mirror finished monstrosities that looked just like one another.

"All three are relatively close to one another, right?" Peter asked.

"Within a square mile."

"Okay, let's look at the others before we bother going inside any of them."

"Yeah, I'm not all that comfortable with the idea of just walking into these banks just yet. I was not well disguised."

"I'm surprised Alistair let you disguise yourself at all."

"I think it's only because he knew how difficult it would have been for me to have kept from getting caught before he was done with me if my face was known. I already had FBI and US Marshalls after me for cutting my anklet, adding every cop in the city on my tail for armed robbery would not have ended well."

"Probably not."

"I felt ridiculous." Neal chuckled. "The papers were calling me 'The Bank Bunny' the next day."

"What?"

"I had a white rabbit mask on."

"Run, Rabbit, Run…" Peter mused to himself.

"Alistair quoted that at me."

"The rabbit theme was intentional, you were being used to taunt someone."

"Mission accomplished I guess." Neal shrugged. "Any thoughts on who?"

"Not really." Peter sighed in frustration. "Let's take a quick look at the other two."

Neal pulled back out into traffic and headed over to First Republic before heading to Safra National. The other banks were also located on the ground floors of towering buildings, but so were most of the banks in New York. Being inch for inch some of the most heavily used real estate in the world meant that you had to build straight up in most cases and building often held multiple businesses. Sitting in the car Peter stared up at the mirror finish of the windows on Safra National. The stone building across the street had a warp reflection in the glass giving the building a little more of an interesting look than the other two, however the building stood out to him for another reason. Having remembered this one brought back the ten year old memories of the other two.

"I can't believe I didn't connect these sooner…although it wasn't Safra back then, it was First Federal Credit, and it wasn't Ridgewood it was a Barclays branch." Peter rambled more to himself than Neal. "It's been ten years, but Mafia families love their tradition, I bet they are still in there."

"Peter?" Neal asked hoping he'd include him in the conversation.

"I've gotten search warrants on all three of these buildings," Peter continued still not making much sense to Neal. "I was part of the team that searched this one…I had hoped he'd be here, but it was already too late, the warrants took too long to come in, and we were just wasting more time."

"Peter, I don't know what you're talking about. Who were you looking for?"

"Alistair, I was looking for Alistair."

The days searching for Alistair had been a blur, tainted with the guilt of responsibility for him being lost in the first place. Peter shook his head to clear it, having become momentarily distracted once more by bad memories of the past. Neal was looking at him in confusion. With the pain in his hands and feet suddenly bothering him more Peter had to pour a lot of his focus into just making himself understood. He hadn't even realized that beyond knowing that Alistair was a past CI of his Neal didn't really know any of the story. Going over the broad strokes of the events Peter explained to Neal how Alistair had posed as a member of the Lassard family in his efforts to gain rank in the Scapine racket by using the FBI to bring down the Lassards, and how he had bolted when things went wrong.

"We knew he was in danger from both families, we all felt the Scapine's would deal with him themselves so we concentrated our efforts there. Unfortunately they handed him over to the Lassards. We had arrested and killed a significant number of the Lassard mafia members in the raid, in fact they never reformed as an organized crime group, but the few who were left took their revenge out on Alistair brutally. We came here first because the Scapine family owns floors in all three of the buildings with the banks that you robbed. They like having banks on the ground floor because it's an added layer of security that they don't have to pay for."

"But that security can backfire, if they were in the building when the bank was hit the whole building would be put on lock down until the FBI could do a sweep."

"Exactly. By hitting those three banks in such quick succession you basically locked down a majority of the Scapine mafia for several hours."

"That would seriously cut down their ability to respond to an attack on another one of their locations."

"The Scapine's have plenty of enemies and despite Alistair's intel being ten years old a lot of it would still be good." Peter added. "When one mafia makes a move against another one unless there is blood in the streets or civilians caught in the cross fire the war goes pretty much unnoticed and unreported to law enforcement."

"Okay then, problem solved. We can breath easier and you can get some rest." Neal smiled. "I bet Elizabeth had cooked an entire banquet by now, and yes, I'd love an invitation to dinner. All I've had today is that coffee earlier and I doubt you've had much more than that."

"Neal…"

"Peter, if this was a coordinated attack of one mafia on another then everything would have to have been perfectly timed and orchestrated. It's been two days, whatever further plans Alistair had for me at the request of any third party is long past its expiration date. Right?"

"Most likely." Peter was forced to agree.

"You've only been pushing yourself so hard to solve this because you thought I was still in danger, and I'm not. You need to go home. Are you even allowed to be investigating right now?"

"No one has officially put me on medical leave."

"I think it was a given." Neal rolled his eyes.

"I couldn't investigate Alistair himself even if I was still on active duty." Peter added heavily. "As much as I love for us to find a way to prove his guilt, legally we can't. I'm too close to the case."

"The rest of the team is working on that." Neal assured. "I know it's not really in your nature, but you need to take care of yourself for now. Don't let Alistair win by driving yourself into the ground."

"I am starving."

"Then it's settled."

Neal didn't give Peter any more room to argue as he started the drive back towards Peter's house. It hadn't escaped Neal's attention how distracted Peter had been and how difficult it was for him to focus. Even just sitting in the car his chest was heaving with each labored breath. Peter kept shifting his position in obvious discomfort. As much as he wanted to deny the ordeal he'd been through the physical toll was catching up with him. Neal had been willing to follow his instincts on a threat this far, but Peter's health was not good enough to continue without a break.

Reaching Peter's house Neal was not disappointed in Elizabeth's need to cook in her own attempt to cope with her own stress. Once home Peter had apologized to her multiple times about having being gone most of the day. Neal was amazed by how well she accepted Peter's mix of dedication to the job and general stubbornness, not every spouse would be so understanding.

Neal hadn't expected to stay long, but before he knew it hours had passed. Despite his previous fatigue Peter had found some sort of second wind during dinner. Neal wasn't sure if it was a show for Elizabeth's sake or if he truly just felt better now that he was back home. Neal did find it encouraging that for at least a few hours the three of them were able to enjoy a somewhat domestic scene. Eventually Peter had started to look like he was getting close to passing out again. Exhausted himself Neal finally excused himself, hopeful that Peter would be too tired for nightmares.

Peter had protested the idea of Neal going back to his apartment at first, but Neal really wanted to sleep in his own bed and after he pointed out that the surveillance team was still outside his place Peter had agreed. It was close to eleven at night and Peter had checked in on the surveillance team before Neal left, but they reported that there hadn't been any suspicious activity since the protection detail had left earlier that morning.

Neal was honestly convinced that the only real danger left was Alistair, so much so that when he stepped into his apartment and found someone waiting for him he wasn't entire convinced that he wasn't just hallucinating the intruder. Standing by the kitchen able enjoying the apartment's view was a man in his late forties wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit with a blood red tie. Neal had made it a few feet into the apartment before he'd even noticed him. The man turned to face him with a bright smile. Although initially too stunned to react when the stranger took a step closer Neal instantly backed up only to bump into someone both several inches taller and broader than he was. The other man had been standing against the wall besides the door and had stepped behind Neal while he'd been distracted by the other man.

"Mr. Caffrey, it's an honor to meet you." The man with the red tie greeted warmly as if he was an expected guest.

"Likewise I'm sure, Mr…"

"Lassard." He supplied. "Victor Lassard."

"Oh." Neal replied surprised both at the name and the way he freely gave it. "I…uh…was expecting you to give me a pseudonym like 'Wolf' or 'Pink' or something."

"No need for that," Lassard smiled "we're all criminals here."

"Point taken. How can I help you?" Neal asked politely in hopes of keeping the unusual meeting civil even though he feared it wasn't going to end that way.

"It's not how you can help me, it's how we can help each other." Lassard assured. "I came to make you an offer."

"Let me guess," Neal glanced nervously at the strongman "one I can't refuse?"

"You can absolutely refuse it…but I don't think you will." Lassard said confidently. "It involves Alistair Price and some rather damning evidence I have against him for the kidnapping and torture of a Federal Agent. Are you interested in hearing me out?"

"You certainly have my attention…"


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter twenty-six

"How did you even get in here?"

"You left the back door open."

"Oh…right."

"You were spotted walking into the hospital this morning, since we didn't see you leave it didn't take much to figure that there was a tunnel. The park was a logical place to look for an entrance. You should really get that fixed."

"I'll put it on my 'to do' list." Neal assured as he looked nervously at the guard that Lassard had brought along.

"You look uneasy, Mr. Caffrey," Lassard noted "I'd offer you a drink but this is your house so that seems a little inappropriate. However, if you're offering I'd love a brandy."

"I don't have any brandy."

"More of a wine guy? I can see that." Lassard chuckled. "Well if we aren't going to bother with pleasantries let's get back to business. I've come to you for a simple trade of services. I have access to solid evidence against Alistair, and in return I need your skills for a few hours."

"Which skills exactly?"

"I'd rather not show my hand on that without coming to an agreement first. If you decide to decline I'd like to leave you with as little information as possible to give to your handler. Let's just say I want your help completing the last step of a criminal endeavor. It's very low risk to you, the heavy lifting is already taken care of I just need a delicate touch for the last step and I hear you are among the best."

"Was the original plan that you were going to threaten to kill Peter if I didn't complete this 'last step'?"

"That was indeed the plan." Lassard admitted freely.

"What happened? Something must have gone wrong, Peter was minutes away from death by the time I arrived at the warehouse, you couldn't have been looking to bargain with him in that condition."

"Killing Agent Burke was never part the plan, we had every intention of letting him go if everything went well. Then we thought you were shot and as such you became worthless, so we cleared out. Alistair tried to insist that you could still do it, but I figured you'd be dead before you got there. That was a really impressive performance by the way, very clever."

"You were watching?"

"I was and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a certain amount of animosity towards Agent Burke myself, however it was Alistair who decided to turn the temperature down to kill him once we made the decision that the plan wasn't going to work." Lassard said. "My family used to be one of the most powerful in New York, now we are a laughing stock for letting the FBI destroy us from the inside, however he wouldn't have gotten anywhere near us if it wasn't for Alistair. I hold Alistair responsible for what happened. A rat is always worse than a Fed."

"And yet you still helped Alistair get what he wanted." Neal said, ignoring the obvious jab at his own current status as a 'rat' CI.

"Alistair had some information that I've failed for ten years to get from anyone else." Lassard explained. "I have larger enemies than Alistair and he has made enemies of…well basically everyone. We kind of a have an enemy of my enemy is my friend type of relationship."

"I don't believe that Alistair can't possibly know it's you he's working with, you tortured him."

"Not me personally, I had nothing to do with that. That was a pair of sadistic blokes that were close with my father who did that out of revenge for my father's capture."

"Still, I can't imagine him wanting to have anything to do with any Lassard."

"You'd be surprised. For one thing it was really the Scapines who turned their backs on him and threw him to my family. However in the ten years that he's been obsessing over what happened to him interestingly enough he has come to the conclusion that Agent Burke was the only guilty party. I don't understand it myself, but the boy is quite insane."

Neal wasn't sure exactly where he could safely take the conversation next. He was stalling as much as possible in hopes that someone would call him, either Diana down in the surveillance car checking in on him or even Peter unable to sleep without double checking that he got home safe. With everyone still on such high alert Neal doubted that he'd have to say anything too out of character to trigger enough suspicion for someone to come upstairs armed and ready. Even if Lassard refused to let him answer at this point a call going to voice mail would probably send the cavalry. Neal didn't dare slip his hands into his pocket and try to blindly dial someone with Lassard's body guard watching him like a hawk.

"You are starting to try my patience, Mr. Caffrey." Lassard announced. "Are you interested or not?"

"Why should I trust you on this?"

"Murder is messy, Mr. Caffrey, and it's bad for business to kill people who help you. This way I'll get what I want, you'll get what you want and we can part ways happy."

"And you're just going to let me go when all is said and done?" Neal asked skeptically. "Knowing I'm going straight back to the FBI?"

"The FBI doesn't even have enough evidence to prosecute Alistair on any of this and he was up to neck in the muck of it. What luck do you think they'll have going after me? I'm so clean you could eat off me."

"I'd rather not."

"But you see my point?"

"I do. This crime you want me to help you complete…it's never going to be reported, is it?" Neal asked rhetorically. "Whatever this is it's against the Scapine family and they'd die before going to the FBI for help for any reason."

"Honor among thieves." Lassard chuckled. "So you what do you say? Are you in?"

Neal didn't answer right away, not only continuing to stall but to also see how quickly Lassard would resort to threats. He highly doubted that if said 'no' that the ex-Mafia boss would leave peacefully. Worst case scenario he would kill him here and now to keep him from putting the FBI on his trail even if it was as clean as he said, otherwise he'd probably just kidnap him and force him into whatever it was he wanted. Lassard looked down at his watch with a heavy sigh.

"Look, Mr. Caffrey, you aren't the only thief in town. I don't need you for this, but I'd have to pay top dollar for someone else and it would take time that I might not have to find them. I like bartering more than just a cold exchange of cash."

"Bartering?" Neal snarled in sudden anger at Lassard's word choice. "Like handing my friend over to a psychopath in exchange for information?"

"Alistair was already plotting against him. Alistair was going to murder Agent Burke's wife, I think mostly because he was too cowardly to go up against Burke on his own. He had finally scrapped together enough money to hire someone to kill her for him, which is how we found him after all these years in WitSec."

"What?" Neal asked in horror, his blood running cold at just the thought of Elizabeth being a target.

"Alistair was looking for a professional killer when I stepped in and offered him a different solution. I think it's safe to say that Burke would choose for things to work out the way they did without a second's worth of thought or a moment's hesitation. Agent Burke paid a high personal cost without even knowing the stakes, but in the end it still boils down to the fact that I saved her life. However if Alistair goes free, he still has that money he saved and more if he successfully sues the FBI…"

"What evidence do you have on Alistair?" Neal asked quickly.

"The best kind: irrefutable." Lassard smiled brightly. Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a small flash drive. "I have video of Alistair with Peter when he was still unconscious. Alistair insisted on being there to lock him in the freezer himself. What he didn't know was that I had surveillance in the rafters of the warehouse, better yet the camera is still there. I doubt the FBI will find it without knowing to look, but if they do know and they find it they can easily trace back the signal and get the original feed. Absolutely no legal loop holes to worry about. Take a look for yourself."

Already anxious about having the mobster in his apartment Neal's stomach twisted into a tighter knot as he reached out to take the small device. Lassard gestured to Neal's laptop that was sitting on the kitchen table to encourage him to use it. Opening the laptop and clicking the drive into the port automatically opened up a short video clip. Alistair stood near the open freezer door shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. Alistair's face suddenly lit up with a sickly smile. Soon after two large men dragged Peter into the frame, they clearly knew where the camera was and played the angles perfectly. Neal assumed that originally the film was taken to later blackmail Alistair. Alistair crouched down next to his unconscious victim and just stared at him for a moment.

'Sleep while you can, Agent, it's going to be a long day.'

To Neal's surprise Peter actually responded to Alistair's voice. Fluttering his eyes open briefly with a low groan he struggled to surface from the drugs. Bile stung the back of Neal's throat as he watched Alistair reached down and clamp his hand down over Peter's nose and mouth. Adrenaline surged Peter's system causing him to momentarily try to fight back, but with his system still swimming in drugs he quickly passed out again. Neal doubted Peter remembered the encounter, and as much as he hated watching it the scene showed Alistair actively assaulting him and acknowledging that he knew he was dealing with a Federal Agent. Lassard was right, it was the exact evidence they needed to put Alistair away for life.

Unable to watch Alistair actually lock Peter in the freezer Neal closed the program and pulled the flash drive out. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen Neal quickly scribbled a simple note that just said 'Give to Peter' on it. After allowing Lassard to read the note he folded the flash drive up inside the paper. Going over to a small oil painting on the wall he took it down to reveal the small wall safe behind it which he secured the drive in. Peter didn't know the combination, but Mozzie did and Neal knew that if he didn't return that Mozzie would go straight to the safe to make sure nothing important was inside. Neal didn't want to just risk leaving it laying out, this way he could be sure Peter would get it and even if things didn't end well for him with Lassard at least they could put Alistair away and Elizabeth would be safe.

"I take it we have a deal?" Lassard smiled.

"Yes." Neal nodded. "Let's go."

"Excellent."

"I assume you know about my anklet?"

"Don't worry about it. Just look to the left."

"What…"

Neal had instinctively turned to glance to the left, not so much because of Lassard's odd request, but because there was a sudden motion in that direction that had caught his attention. Just as he turned there was a sudden flash of sickening pain at his temple as Lassard's bodyguard struck him with enough force to knock him to the floor. Managing to remain conscious Neal sat up before reaching up and pressed his palm against his heavily bleeding temple. The injury that he'd gotten when he'd tripped and hit the street had just started to heal but the powerful blow had torn it open again. Swallowing against a wave of nausea Neal gave Lassard a sour look.

"Thanks." Neal muttered bitterly.

"Sorry about that, but if you're going to go with 'kidnapping' as a cover story it needs to look real."

"I got that." Neal replied dryly.

Neal took his hand away from the injury and looked at the blood covering his hand. Putting his gory palm against the floor he made a show of having trouble getting back to his feet. When the body guard stepped into help Neal used the opportunity to jerk away from him and snarl an insult, at the same time he dragged his hand across the floor in a vague 'L' shape leaving a bloody trail on the hardwood. It wasn't a particularly good clue, but it was better than nothing as long as Lassard didn't notice. Lassard's guard ignored Neal's weak attempt to avoid him and grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him back up to his feet.

"There is no need to be rough." Neal complained when the guard didn't release him. "Can we jus…"

Lassard stepped up and pulled a small spray container out of his pocket. In what seemed like a well practiced move the guard behind him jabbed Neal in the ribs causing him to breath in sharply just as Lassard sprayed the chemical in his face. Neal jerked his head back but it was too late. Having breathed in the fine mist Neal was already feeling dizzy. The guard kept him from falling to the floor as he started to lose consciousness.

"Good night, Mr. Caffrey, don't worry you'll wake up soon." Lassard assured. "I just hope you are as good as your reputation suggests."

Neal doubted that any amount of skill was going to get him out of this alive on his own as the world started to go black. Once Lassard had what he wanted Neal would be little more than a liability. Peter would be looking for him the instant his anklet was cut, but he wouldn't have much to go on. Neal tried to stay awake, but fighting the drugs didn't help him any more than it had helped Peter as he passed out.

Neal had no way of knowing how much time had passed when he started to come to. Although a little foggy at first the incessant throbbing at his temple reminded him of his situation. Opening his eyes Neal stared up at an industrial office looking drop tile ceiling. He was stretched out on a couch that felt and smelled like it had been picked up free on the side of the road after a rain storm. Sitting up Neal looked around the small dingy manager's office. Across the small room were a large set of windows that looked out over a warehouse with several docking bays that were all closed. The few windows in the warehouse to the outside world had been painted over. Neal checked his pockets, but unfortunately Lassard had thought to take his cell phone away. He was just getting to his feet when Lassard opened the door and stepped inside.

"Good morning." Lassard greeted.

"Morning already?" Neal asked hoping to get an idea of what time it was.

"Technically." Lassard answered vaguely. "Ready to work?"

"Honestly I could use a few more hours of sleep." Neal yawned for effect in a desperate attempt to stall further to give Peter more time to find him.

"No time for that."

"I was afraid you'd say that." Neal forced a smile. "Okay, what do you have for me?"

Lassard gestured for Neal to follow him as he left the managers office. Keeping a sharp eye out Neal looked around for any clues as to where the warehouse was in case he got a chance to get a message out somehow. The warehouse looked like it hadn't been used in years and was mostly just an empty space with a few large rusting metal racks. Despite being empty it was well guarded at the moment, on the short walk across the warehouse floor Neal spotted eight armed men keeping watch near various exits.

Lassard lead Neal to the only interesting feature in the dusty warehouse. In the center of the floor there was a white sheet draped over a box that was approximately six feet tall and wide and about four feet deep. On the floor beside it was another sheet laid out on the floor with irregular shapes under it. Neal wasn't sure why Lassard had set up the dramatic reveal but he went along with it as he pulled the sheet off the large square. Even though Neal had known that there was a large safe under the sheet it was still an impressive sight. The thick walled safe had to weigh several tons and it looked like it had recently been moved.

"You stole this?"

"Impressed?"

"I really am." Neal replied honestly. "What's inside it?"

"Open it and find out."

Contemplating the challenge Neal walked around the heavily armored steel box that was slightly taller than he was. The plaster stuck to the back suggested that it had been pressed up against a wall in it's original home for quite some time. Neal really was impressed by the heist, snatching a safe of this size was no small feat. Walking around to the front Neal ran his hand along the door above the large combination dial. No attempt had been made to gain access to the interior of the safe, which meant that Lassard knew that he wasn't dealing with an average safe. Neal took a closer look at a small area of darker metal on the front door and traced the vaguely ribbon shaped area with his fingertips.

"The make and model plate has been removed." Neal noted.

"I didn't say it was going to be easy."

"It's okay, I recognize the make from the mark left behind. This is a classic Mosler, but it's been updated and modified."

"How can you tell?"

"The dial is newer than the rest of it." Neal replied as he gave the dial a free spin to demonstrate how smooth the action was.

"Can you open it?"

Neal walked over and pulled the sheet off the tools. Lassard had done at least some research, any tool he could possibly need short of explosives was laid out on the floor. Lassard made a motion and one of his men dragged over few heavy duty extension cords to use a power sources. Having a suspicion about the inside of the door Neal picked up a smaller drill and picked a quarter inch metal bit and secured it in place. Laying down on his side Neal spent a full half hour carefully drilling a small hole through the outer plate in the bottom corner of the door opposite of the dial. He had to stop several times and change the bit against the hard steel. Once the opening was complete Neal fished a lighted scope inside to look around.

"Not good." Neal sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"The safe has a glass relocker. It's a sheet of a glass the protects the mechanism." Neal explained as he got back to his feet. "You can't drill it like you would a normal safe because if you break the glass you trigger the secondary locking system which renders the combination useless and would then require hours with a high heat torch or small explosion to get it open. Are the contents heat sensitive?"

"If they weren't we would have cut our way in by now."

"Right. So if I break the glass…"

"The contents of the safe become worthless and I already delivered on my half of the bargain. If you can't repay me…"

Lassard didn't finish his threat, but he didn't have to. Neal slipped his hands into his pockets and pretended to contemplate the safe. He didn't know how much of a head start Peter had on finding him, he could have been knocked out for just an hour or half the night. Knowing Lassard would most likely kill him once it was open the best strategy was to take as long as possible trying to crack it while also being careful not to make a wrong move and breaking the glass.

"I can open it." Neal said confidently. "But it's going to take some time."

"How long?"

"Six, maybe seven hours."

"Don't insult me, Mr. Caffrey." Lassard replied icily. "This box certainly isn't any higher grade than TRTL-60, which only takes sixty minutes to drill into."

"Add another hour to be cautious about the glass, and then there is the challenge of scoping the change key hole on what might be a custom dial, even if it isn't custom it's probably a zero change lock with a false index at the gate, the changing cam could be ten to one hundred off, it could take hours to figure out the combination working with only a view of the change key hole instead of the cam wheel. If you want this open, I need room to breathe."

Neal hoped that the barrage of safe cracking jargon would cause Lassard to doubt himself and it seemed to work. Looking down at his watch Lassard studied the safe for a moment. The determined expression on his face told Neal that whatever was inside he desperately wanted it. Lassard turned his cold blue eyes on Neal.

"You have four hours to get it open, Mr. Caffrey. After that I'm going to collect on our deal in blood…and not just your own."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-seven

"Please don't break…"

With sweat and blood dripping into his eyes Neal leaned harder on the drill that he had been working at for almost two hours. At this point he was just as worried about breaking another drill bit as triggering the glass relocker. The outer liner that he'd drilled through to get a look at the glass relocker had been difficult enough to get through, however the inner lining of the safe had been retrofitted with a hard plate that contained chips of tungsten carbide that were specifically designed to shatter drill bits. After quickly destroying several bits Neal had to abandon the drill rig, which made for less manual labor, and had to fall back on using the heavy drill by hand so that he could feel the resistance of the tungsten chips when he came across them and proceed more carefully.

Kneeling on the top of the safe he was able to at least use his body weight to assist this time. Despite what he had originally told Lassard in an effort to get more time drilling into the safe was taking a lot longer than he had anticipated mostly due to the fact that he had been forced to drill a second hole. After an hour of work and five broken drill bits Neal had succeeded in punching a one inch hole in the side of the safe. Scoping in through the hole Neal's heart sank when he caught sight of the change key hole, or at least where the change key hold should be. Covering the small opening was a large simile face sticker.

It was common for safe companies to place a sticker with their information over the change key hole to keep people from trying to change the combination on the locks themselves. The sticker was a simple way to prove someone had tampered with the safe. With the sticker in place if an owner wanted to keep their warranty on the safe they had to pay a fee to have the company come out and use the change key to change the combination. Another side effect of having the sticker there was that it made it impossible to scope without scraping the sticker off. In this case the sticker hadn't been placed there to pad the pockets of a locksmith, it was there specifically to taunt anyone trying to crack the safe and slow them down.

In his attempt to steer clear of the glass relocker Neal had drilled into the side of the safe about twelve inches back from the front. He tried a few things to get at the sticker, but in the end there just wasn't any way to remove it from his vantage point. After taking some very careful measurements Neal had crawled up on top of the safe and was drilling directly above the key change hole, dangerously close to the front door and the delicate glass it contained. Neal was using sheer luck to keep the vibration from the drill from shattering the glass.

With fatigue setting in from getting next to no sleep over the past twenty four hours Neal didn't catch the slight change in the feel of the drill and pressed too hard against a tungsten chip shattering another drill bit. Frustrated and dizzy from exhaustion Neal put the drill down and sat back. Having stripped down to his undershirt Neal pulled up on the bottom hem of the cotton shirt and tried to clean his face, which he didn't have much luck with considering the filthy condition of the shirt itself from the drill work. The cut that Lassard's bodyguard had reopened was still bleeding, along with the sweat and swelling from the strike itself it was making it difficult to see. Getting back to the problem at hand Neal yanked the broken piece of drill out of the hole and tested to see how deep it was. He guessed he only had another half inch to go, but it was clear the safe was going to fight him for every millimeter of it.

"Someone really doesn't want me getting into this thing." Neal sighed heavy.

"How is it going, Mr. Caffrey?" Lassard asked as he walked up to the safe.

"Getting there. I need another bit."

"Of course."

Lassard made a motion to one of the guards that were standing around the large safe watching Neal. The guard picked up a variety of the bits that were laid out on the floor and offered them to Neal. Only taking the one he needed Neal sat back on his heels while he clicked the new bit into place in the chuck. This was the last one of the size that he was currently working with, if he broke it he'd need to use a smaller one which would make removing the sticker even harder.

"Anything else I can get you?" Lassard asked.

"I could use a few more hours added to my deadline."

"You still have almost two hours, I have faith in you."

"It could take another hour just clearing the change key hole, and I'm still not all the way through the top plate."

"Then I suggest you get back to work."

Knowing not to push Lassard further despite his calm tone Neal just nodded and set back to piercing the safe's thick hide. Another half hour of drilling later Neal finally broke through the top of the safe. Putting down the drill he opened and closed his sore hands a few times before stretching out his wrists as well. The physical portion of the job was over, but the concentration needed to decipher the combination with a limited view would be just as exhausting if the wheels had been modified in any way. Using the scope that he'd brought up with him Neal peered down into the new opening. With the tiny camera and light on the scope it was difficult to get a good idea of what was in the safe, but it appeared to have multiple items that had been boxed or wrapped for storage.

Not really concerned yet with what was inside Neal was just relieved to find that he had made his measurements correctly. Neal had already told Lassard that he was going to need a long thin metal rod to use to scrap the sticker off back when he'd first discovered the problem and they had hunted down a piece of metal from somewhere in the warehouse. Threading the metal through the hole Neal started the time consuming process of scraping the sticker off the inside of the door. Laying down on his belly Neal crossed one arm over so that he could rest his chin on it while he continued to work the metal rod with his free hand.

Originally Neal closed his eyes to help him concentrate on the feel of the metal rod so that he could tell when he was catching the edge of the sticker. However after about ten minutes he was simply finding it too difficult to keep his eyes open. Barely managing to stay awake Neal continued to try and remove the obstructive sticker. Twenty minutes later he was catching himself starting to fall asleep as he would nod off and jerk awake.

Shaking his head to try and clear it he pulled the metal rod out and was just about to use the scope to check his progress when someone grabbed his ankle and went to haul him off the top of the safe. Yelping in surprise from the sudden attack Neal lashed out and tried to get a grip on the edge of the safe to keep from being dragged off his perch. He managed to hold on for a moment, but another set of hands joined the first and succeeded in pulling him down. Hitting the concrete floor hard Neal fought blindly against the men that had descended on him. Unable to get to his feet he tried to just scramble away from his attacker but only ended up backing himself up against the safe. Two of Lassard's men pinned him down while a third wrapped the tie that he had taken off around Neal's thigh and secured it with a painfully tight knot.

"What are you doing?!" Neal demanded.

"Losing my patience." Lassard growled darkly.

Neal's heart slammed against his ribs as Lassard pressed the muzzle of his gun against his knee. The man who had placed the tourniquet to keep him from bleeding out hand switch his strong grip to his ankle to keep him from kicking. Instinct caused Neal to try physically trying to escape first before he quickly realized his was out matched. With his previous fatigue erased by the threat of a grave injury Neal switched tactics.

"Wait! Lassard, don't do this, I will never be able get into that safe if I'm distracted by pain."

"I disagree," Lassard smiled coldly "I think you'll find it surprisingly motivating."

"Lassard…"

Neal didn't bother begging as Lassard nosily cocked the weapon. Welding his eyes shut Neal took a deep breath to brace himself for a devastating close range shot. Anticipating pain Neal jolted violently at the sound of Lassard's weapon clicking against an empty chamber. The men released him, but it took Neal a second to recover. Panting heavily he stared up at the men surrounding him as they shared a quick laugh as though they had just pulled a harmless prank. Not finding their psychological torment amusing in the least Neal glared at Lassard.

"Feeling more awake?" Lassard chuckled.

"Wha…what?"

"You were starting to nod off." Lassard explained as he offered his hand to help Neal back to his feet. "I thought this might help."

"You could have just gotten me some coffee." Neal grumbled, refusing the help and getting up on his own.

"Adrenaline is much more effective." Lassard shrugged.

"Threatening me is not exactly great for my focus."

"I'll add an extra fifteen minutes to your deadline for being a good sport about it."

Not wanting to lose what little ground he'd just gained Neal accepted the extra time without pushing for more or arguing about his treatment further. Neal was starting to fear that even if he could buy another few hours that it wouldn't be enough for Peter to find him. He had been keeping an eye out for any way to get himself free, but so far nothing had really presented itself as an opportunity. Being heavily out numbered by people who knew what he was made it more difficult. Being a con artist only really worked in situations where people weren't on their guard for a trick.

Hoping something would come up later that would help him Neal turned his attention to the tie that was cutting off his circulation. Working the tie free he took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He did have to admit that he was fully awake now. Lassard had one of his taller guards retrieve the scope off the top of the safe and offered it to Neal as if it was some sort of peace offering rather than a demand that he get back to work. Knowing that Lassard wouldn't hesitate to actually shoot him if he refused Neal took the scope and turned back to the safe.

Looking through the hole he'd drilled in the side of the safe Neal finally got some good news when he discovered that he had successfully cleared away the change key hole. Now he just had to check the rings in the cam and hope that they hadn't made too many modification to them. With the top-of-the-line flexing scope that Lassard had provided Neal was able to easily get a good view without having to go to the trouble of setting any mirrors inside the safe which was a time saver he was starting to feel he might actually need. Setting up the scope Neal reached around to the front and gave the dial a quick spin to the left and then to the right.

"Finally some good news." Neal muttered to himself.

"Like what you see, Mr. Caffrey?"

"There have been a lot of modification to this safe, including the new dial, but they at least had the good sense to still use a Mosler lock, there are no balance holes, and the rivets are brass, tell tale signs of a Mosler." Neal looked in through the scope and more slowly dialed to the right. "Although the bad news is they've modified the change index by hand, and of course Mosler locks are back drive not front drive."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means this is going to take longer."

"Then I suggest you stop trying to impress me with technical babble and get it done. You have…" Lassard made a show of looking at his Rolex "…an hour and twenty-five minutes."

"I need more time."

"Fine. After an hour and twenty-five, now an hour and twenty-four, I'll add on however long it takes for you to bleed out from a close range shot to the thigh, if you're lucky I'll miss the artery. Don't test me further, Caffrey, remember you're not the only locksmith in town."

"I remember."

"Good." Lassard smiled.

Neal didn't really need more time, he had just hoped to be able to buy some to help give Peter more time. He was grateful that Lassard hadn't bothered to bring along anyone who had enough working knowledge safe locks to check to see if he was lying or not. Scoping the change key hole wasn't a skill that even professional locksmith always had a good handle on since a frontal assault to any safe without a relocker was so much easier, and relockers were still relatively rare. However even someone without good working knowledge of this technique that knew anything about the inner workings of a safe lock could tell that the change index hadn't been modified. In fact without modification the Mosler lock didn't even have a change index making the math of the combination simpler.

Kneeling next to the side of the safe so that he didn't have to crouch down Neal spent ten minutes manipulating the dial to get a feel for the wheels inside. With the easy landmarks of the brass rivets against the steel wheels Neal didn't have any trouble finding the gates or the changing cams. Getting more serious about it Neal started looking back and forth from his view in the scope and the numbers he was actually dialing. Five minutes later he had a sequence that if he just added 25 to each number he'd have the combination since Mosler locks were always 25 higher than the visible gate when looking through the change key hole. Able to open the safe Neal thought about how best to play out the next hour as he made a noise of frustration. There was no sense in not taking advantage of his full deadline.

"I need a piece of paper and a pen." Neal announced.

Lassard had spent most of his time while Neal was drilling sitting in the office, but now he was staying close by. He nodded to one of his men and they went off to fetch the requested item. Neal took the chance to see what the rest of Lassard's men were up to. Three of them were still by the safe the others were spread out by the exits. Neal had seen eight men before, he counted twelve now, which meant there could be more that he hadn't seen. The man who had walked over to the office returned with a pad of paper and pen.

"Thanks." Neal smiled brightly as he took the items. "They really mucked this thing up, I have a feeling whoever modified the dial wasn't so great at math…which actually I'm not that great at either so I'm going to need a calculator as well."

"I have one on my phone." The man offered as he reached into his pocket, clearly not wanting to walk all the way back to the office to fetch a plain calculator.

"Give him your phone and I will break your face." Lassard snarled at the man as he pushed him away. He turned to Neal and shook his head with a rueful smile. "I don't know how you do that, Mr. Caffrey, but I am impressed."

"Do what?" Neal asked innocently.

"Make people around you act like they were born yesterday." Lassard chuckled. "Honestly how do you do that? Even I want to trust you."

"It's more art than science."

"Are you sure you want to go back to the FBI?" Lassard asked sounding seriously. "I can see you and Agent Burke have some sort of Stockholm Syndrome thing going on, but you have a perfect chance to break free right now. I would gladly employ and even protect you."

"Assuming I don't take more than forty-five minutes to open this safe?"

"I do need some proof that you actually are as good as your reputation suggests you are."

"Let me get the safe open and we can take this conversation from there."

"Think about your answer, I won't be looking for a conversation when the time comes, just a 'yes or no'."

Neal studied Lassard for a moment, his offer seemed genuine. Neal just wasn't sure if his options were going to be as simple as going back to the FBI or if he would simple be shot when he chose not to go with him. Neal was distracted from his short term future when the man who had offered him the phone returned with a standard calculator. Neal thanked him for it and when he went back to pretending to figure out the combination as he used the calculator even though he didn't need it. Even if the dial had been modified he wouldn't have needed the machine for the simple math, he had been counting on someone blindly handing over a phone since hardly anyone used traditional calculators any more. It had been a low chance, low risk, high reward con that unsurprisingly Lassard had caught on to. Still it had been worth a shot.

After having scribbled out a few dozen variations on the combination Neal knew he was starting to run out of time. He didn't really believe in Lassard's promise for a way out, but he did believe in the threats he'd made earlier. Neal knew he was a dangerous asset to have hanging around for too long, Lassard knew not to push his luck against the FBI, particularly when he knew that they were personally motivated to find him. When Neal noticed Lassard shifting his weight he guessed that he probably only had minutes left on his deadline.

Lassard looked down at his watch before leaning into whisper something to his main bodyguard, the one that had accompanied him to Neal's apartment. Neal pretended to keep working as he watched the pair. The guard nodded and stepped out of ear shot to make a phone call. Lassard waited a few minutes before he also wandered off to make a hushed phone call. Neal started to worry that Lassard was starting to work on his 'Plan B' if Neal didn't manage to open the safe.

As Lassard hung up his call and walked back over Neal made the tactical decision that allowing the deadline to pass was not worth the risks. Lassard wouldn't be put off another hour, and another five minutes probably wasn't going to help anyway. Scribbling one last wrong combination on the bottom of the full page Neal pulled the scope out of the safe and circled around to the front with a triumphant smile.

"You got it?" Lassard asked hopefully.

"Open sesame…"

Neal spun the combination into the dial with a quick hand to prevent Lassard from actually learning the sequence. Lassard didn't seem to care, he was just eager to have the door opened. Neal had to admit that he was curious as to what could be so important to the ex-mafia man and hoped that he lived long enough to see it. Counting on Lassard being too involved in the contents of the safe to order his immediate slaughter Neal opened the safe and strategically placed the heavy door between himself and Lassard.

Lassard was barely paying attention to Neal as he stared into the safe with anticipation lighting up his face. Neal peered around the door and furrowed his brow. The wrapped bundles that he had seen through the scope were large blocks of cash that had been stored in shrink wrap plastic. There was certainly a large amount of cash, several million at least, but nothing worth bringing both the FBI and the Scapine family down on him. Lassard confirmed Neal's suspicion that this had nothing to do with the money when Lassard ordered his men to haul the cash 'out of the way'. Behind the cash the next set of boxes looked like stacks of various gun cases which also didn't interest Lassard.

The large safe also contained a box of passport and visa blanks that Lassard's men tossed aside along with several square wooden crates that they didn't bother opening. Soon the only thing left in safe was pressed up against the back wall. From what Neal could see it appeared to be a canvas painting about 24 inches by 12 in a wooden frame that was stuck against the wall with the painted side facing the wall. The layer of dust that had collected on it suggested that it had been there for a long time. Stepping into the six by six space inside the safe himself Lassard picked up the painting with all the reverence that great art deserved. Neal's heart starting racing again, only this time in anticipation of seeing what was probably a lost work by one of the classic masters. For Neal there was a thrill associated with finding great lost works that stole any fear he had of his probable impending murder.

"Amazing." Lassard smiled as he turned the painting over to view it. "Mr. Caffrey, you're an art man, you will appreciate this."

"I'm sure I will, what is it?"

"The White Rabbit."

"I'm not familiar with that piece." Neal admitted.

Lassard stepped out of the safe with his prize and motioned for Neal to join him to view it. The oil painting's title was a literal one as the subject matter was a dead white rabbit hanging from one foot as if on display after a hunt. Seeing the painting Neal suddenly got a good idea as to why he had been wearing the white rabbit mask during the robberies, clearly Lassard wanted to taunt the Scapines, let them know it was the painting he wanted and not the cash or weapons.

A quick look at the amount of aging and cracking in the paint suggested the work was two to three hundred years old. It was a still life study, having been killed on a hunt the rabbit was hung from a nail in a wooden wall on a short length of rope that was tied around one of its back legs. The artist's use of shadow was not correct giving the impression that there were not only multiple light sources but also gave the rabbit a very flat look. Neal was also struck by the fact that the light was cold in some places and warm in others which threw off the balance of the work.

The rabbit hung directly down the center of the painting leaving little interest to the composition and the way the rabbit hung straight with no line of action didn't naturally lead the eye in any one direction in particular, another sign of poor over all composition. A great deal of detail and work had gone into the fur, but to the point where the paint had been overworked and the gray hues had turned to mud against the white. Not particularly impressed and certainly not recognizing the work or being able to attribute it to any of the great artists of the time Neal wasn't sure what to say about it. It had value in as much as it was an antique work that survived the test of time, but other than that Neal wasn't sure what Lassard saw in it.

"Don't worry, Mr. Caffrey." Lassard smiled. "I know that it's not a great work of art, or even a particularly good one."

"So what made it worth all of this trouble?"

"Honor." Lassard said proudly. "The artist was my great-great-great grandfather, it is a family heirloom that has been in my family for generations. This painting is my birthright."

"And the Scapine family stole it? Why?"

"To add insult to injury when Alistair and the FBI tore our empire apart. Our two families have been at war since we first stepped foot in America. I promised my father before he died in prison that I would get it back at any cost."

Tightening his jaw Neal kept his thoughts about Peter being the one who had ended up paying the real price for the return of the family heirloom to himself. As angry as Neal was that all of this had been over a mafia feud he also knew that he was currently standing on very thin ice as far as his own life was concerned. As if on cue Lassard handed the painting over to one of his men who slipped it into a protective case. His main body guard stepped up and reminded him that they were 'cutting it close'. Neal wasn't sure what he meant by it but Lassard nodded before he turned his attention to Neal. Afraid that he had just run out of uses Neal automatically took a step back, nearly tripping on the open safe behind him.

"Lassard…"

"Decision time, Mr. Caffrey." Lassard interrupted calmly. "Are you interested in a job offer or do you want to go back to serving your sentence? You have thirty seconds to decide which side you are on."

"It's not about sides." Neal replied simply.

"I understand." Lassard nodded. "I tortured your friend, and that is something you can't forgive. I suppose we could never really trust one another."

"Never."

"I admire your loyalty even if I don't fully understand it."

"I don't always understand it myself."

"I believe you." Lassard offered his hand to Neal to shake. "It was a pleasure working with you, even if you don't feel the same."

Neal regarded Lassard's offer for a moment before accepting it. All of Lassard's men were in the process of clearing out of the warehouse in a hurry. They were leaving the rest of the contents of the safe scattered out on the floor. Neal still feared that at any moment Lassard was going to pull his gun back out and kill him. However Lassard just shook his hand with a strong grip as if they were concluding a business meeting that had gone well.

"Good luck, Mr. Caffrey, I mean that. I hope you make it out."

"Wha…"

Before Neal could ask Lassard what he meant Lassard used his grip on Neal's hand to yank him closer. It was instinct for Neal to try to jerk away, a fact Lassard was counting on. Lassard instantly released him so that his momentum would cause him to fall back as he simultaneously slammed the heel of his palm against Neal's chest. Stumbling back Neal fell to the metal floor of the large safe. Lassard's body guard had already positioned himself on the far side of heavy door and quickly slammed it shut.

Neal couldn't even cry out to beg Lassard not to leave him trapped as the weight of a power claustrophobic fear crushed down on him and stole his breath. His blood ran as cold as ice as his eyes fought to adjust to the only light that pierced through the two small holes he'd drilled into the steel box and his mind fought to adjust to what had just happened. Adrenaline poured into his blood leaving him dizzy this time rather than energized as he struggled to his feet. Having already been worked past exhaustion tonight he wasn't in a good state to even begin with his new situation as panic set in. Neal clamped his hand down over his mouth for a moment to try and calm his hyperventilation and force himself to think straight.

"Lassard!" Neal shouted as he finally found his voice. "Lassard! If you're going to kill me, just kill me!"

Neal cried out for Lassard in vain several more times before he realized that he was just making the air in the safe close in on him faster. Shaking violently Neal dropped to his knees near the door so that he could rest his head against the side wall near the bore hole where the air was fresher. Trying quell his mounting panic and stopping himself from sucking for breath was a lot easier said than done in the face of being condemned to a slow death. Safes were not designed to be air tight and there was a good chance that he would have to wait for dehydration to set in before he could find freedom in death if Peter couldn't find him. Already minutes passing felt more like hours, he wasn't sure if his sanity would handle hours or days.

Angry and terrified Neal slammed his palm against the door, but instantly regretted it when he heard the sharp crack of glass. Neal nearly blacked out when he realized that he had just put a crack in the glass re-locker. Weakened by transport, drilling, and having the door slammed shut the system was as near to collapse as Neal himself was. If the delicate pane of glass inside the door shattered there would be no chance of escape, the combination to the lock would become useless and anything powerful enough to cut through the secondary relock system would kill him in the process. Trying not to think about the relocker Neal swore that he suddenly heard a gun fight that had broken out in the distance, but he couldn't discount the idea that he was just hallucinating. Closing his eyes tight even though it didn't make much difference in the dark safe Neal just concentrated on the only hope he had for rescue.

"41 right, 73 left, 25 right. 41 right, 73 left, 25 right…41, 73, 25…"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Hon, you need to get some sleep."

"I know."

Sitting on the edge of the bed Peter stared at nothing while absent mindedly playing with the velcro on his wrist brace. Laying on the floor Satchmo looked up at Peter and offered him a quick thump of his tail, but when Peter didn't get to his feet to let him outside Satchmo just closed his eyes again and fell back asleep. Sitting up in bed Elizabeth sighed heavily, she put her hand on his shoulder in a silent show of support. Peter looked over his shoulder and forced a smile. The bright red mark that marred his cheek had turned to a raw looking wound as the skin that had died peeled away. The tip of the ear on the same side had turned a deep red that was beginning to blacken across the top. Although he kept opening and closing his hands Elizabeth doubted that it was gnawing pain that was keeping Peter awake, but it certainly wasn't helping.

"I know you hate taking pain medication, but I think tonight you need to make an exception."

"No way." Peter shook his head. "I took two this morning and I instantly regretted it."

"Neal certainly isn't going to let you live down that 'best friend' comment." Elizabeth chuckled having heard the story of Peter's drunken affection from Neal during dinner. "Not that it isn't true."

"Instant regret." Peter repeated.

"Well I'm the only one here now and I already know you love me." Elizabeth pointed out. "So no harm in taking more 'true pills'."

"Something just isn't right…" Peter sighed. "I'm missing something on this case, I know I am."

"Why don't you call Diana?" Elizabeth suggested. "Put your mind at ease if nothing else."

"She already let me know Neal made it home safely, I'm just jumping at shadows because I don't have anything solid to focus on."

"You need to focus on healing for now."

"You're right."

"I know." Elizabeth smiled.

"When am I going to learn to just listen to you in first place?"

"Evidence would suggest 'never'." Elizabeth teased.

Peter chuckled, Elizabeth still had her hand on his shoulder and he gave it a quick kiss. Knowing he wasn't going to sleep naturally Peter gave in, trying to get to his feet he failed due to the sharp pain that sliced through the soles of his feet. Before he could try again Elizabeth stopped him and offered to get the prescription narcotics for him. Frustrated Peter shook his head, forcing himself up he limped towards the near by bathroom and closed the door behind himself. Looking in the mirror Peter gingerly reached up and touched his ear, but he couldn't tell if it was the ear that was painful or if it was his fingertips. Knowing that his ear was the lest of his problems right now Peter struggled with the irritating 'child proof' container that the medication came in.

Not wanting to be looped out as he had been this morning Peter used his teeth to snap one of the pills in half and took that along with one whole one. By the time he returned to the bedroom the powerful medication was already taking the edge off his physical pain and making it difficult to remember why he'd been so anxious a second ago. Wanting nothing more than to get some sleep Peter settled back into bed and was fast asleep before he could even bother to arrange the covers.

"Hon? Wake up." Elizabeth's urgent voice suddenly invaded Peter's dreamless sleep. "Peter, someone's at the door."

Feeling like he'd barely even managed to close his eyes Peter had trouble understanding what Elizabeth was saying. It wasn't until he heard the door bell chime himself that he jolted awake. Glancing at the glowing number on the clock and finding it was just past one in the morning made Peter's blood run cold. There was really only one reason why anyone would be on his door step at this time of night.

Jumping out of bed Peter needed a moment to steady himself as the narcotic still heavy in his system dropped his blood pressure from the sudden change in position. Once he was sure he wasn't going to just pass out Peter headed down the stairs with Elizabeth following close behind. Opening the front door he found Diana and Agent Walsh from Violent Crimes standing outside. Diana looked stressed and Agent Walsh who was known for being fairly laid back had a serious expression on his face as he instinctively kept an eye on their six in case of ambush. Agent Walsh's high level of alert told Peter that one unexpected attack had already occurred.

"Neal…"

"As far as we know he's still alive." Diana answered Peter's unasked question. "His anklet was cut about an hour ago while he was at the Northern end of his two mile radius. There was small amount of blood at the scene, nothing to suggest a major injury, probably just from resistance, we actually don't even know that it's his. We tried to call you."

"I...uh...I must have left my phone downstairs." Peter repeated still in a bit of daze.

"I still don't understand how it happened." Walsh spoke up. "We had eyes on that building from every angle, the only person who went in was Caffrey and no one came out. According to his tracking history he walked right through the East wall and through several buildings."

"The tunnel." Peter lamented. "This morning I told Neal to leave without being seen, I knew he had to have some way out."

"Every fox has a secret way out of his den." Walsh agreed.

"Use it once and it's not a secret anymore." Peter continued.

"How did they even know to check?" Diana asked. "The whole point of that was to make them think he was still in there."

"They must have had eyes on both Neal's apartment and the hospital, when he showed up there after they didn't see him leave they put two and two together. That was what's been bothering me, that's what I missed. I forgot to have surveillance set up on the tunnel entrance. Damn it...I could have prevented this, I *should* have prevented it."

"Peter, you couldn't have known they'd figure that out or that they were even after him in the first place." Diana said gently.

"I knew someone would come for him. I should have set up something in his apartment not just outside."

"We're going to get him back, Boss." Diana said confidently.

"Any demands or contact from the kidnappers?"

"No." Diana admitted.

"Let me get my phone and we can go."

"Perhaps get dressed first." Elizabeth suggested.

Peter glanced down at his pajamas before turning around to face Elizabeth. She had already gone upstairs to retrieve some clothes for him as soon as she had heard the situation. Accepting the clothes Peter pulled her into a grateful hug before stepping into the downstairs bathroom to change. Feeling flush and disoriented he splashed some cold water on his face. It didn't really help with the disconnected feeling from the drugs, but it did convince him that this was really happening and wasn't just part of a narcotic induced nightmare.

"We'll find you, Neal." Peter said to himself. "Just keep stalling for time, I know you're good at that."

Putting on his jacket Peter still felt absolutely naked without his shoulder harness and weapon, but he couldn't fire a gun with his broken hand even if he had one. Stepping back out into the living room Peter picked up his phone and checked to make sure all of the missed calls were from Diana, chastising himself for not having done that immediately. There were six missed calls, five from Diana and one from the automatic alert when Neal's anklet had been cut.

Peter stared at his phone for a moment before stepping into the kitchen and placing a quick call to put in motion something he hoped he wouldn't have to use but that he needed to be prepared for anyway. The sleepy voice on the other end of the line snarled several insults before apologizing profusely after Peter identified himself. Peter made his request before hanging up, after a brief hesitation he dialed another number.

"Suit?" Mozzie yawned. "What's going on? Is Neal okay?"

"No." Peter replied simply. "He was taken from his apartment an hour ago, we have to assume in connection to everything that's happened with Alistair. So most likely mafia related."

"Not good, they don't tend to solve their problems peacefully." Mozzie fretted. "It's not really the crowd I run with but I will call in all my favors, there has to be some chatter."

"Thank you." Peter said seriously. "Mozzie...you have something of mine."

"Taken care of, you'll have it by morning."

"Thank you. Call me, do not under any circumstance act on anything you find. You call me. Understand?"

"Understood." Mozzie agreed. "Don't worry, we'll find him. If it's one thing I've learned about Neal it's that he's amazing at keeping himself alive."

Mozzie had just as much confidence in his statement as Diana had which Peter appreciated from them both. Hanging up the phone he rejoined Diana and Walsh who were talking with Elizabeth. They had stepped inside but left the door open so they could quickly leave when Peter was ready. Distracted from his pain by both the drugs and the situation Peter said good bye to Elizabeth and headed out with Diana and Walsh. As Diana drove them to the Federal Building Peter learned that Walsh was already heavily involved in the case against Alistair since the violent kidnapping fell under the Violent Crimes jurisdiction. He had been on surveillance with Diana as a personal favor to talk over the progress they had made on the Alistair case to help keep the White Collar division unofficially in the loop. With one of their own as the victim the entire division, Hughes included, had to be careful not to get too close and give Alistair's lawyer an angle to tear the case apart in court. However so far it was looking like they still didn't have much of a case against him.

"We opened all of the containers at the warehouse site, but there wasn't anything in any of them." Walsh informed Peter. "Forensics did find some deep tire tracks from a heavy duty box truck by the warehouse that were recent. They cast them but they are still working on a make and model, however whatever they were carrying must have been extraordinarily heavy."

"Heavier than the refrigeration unit?" Peter asked.

"Yes. Heavy enough to noticeably warp the track pattern."

"A safe." Peter guessed. "That's why they need Neal."

"It would have to been a big one, not exactly easy to steal."

"But not impossible, heavy objects just take more planing. A 1.6 ton war memorial statue was stolen from a public place in Paris without anyone noticing until it was gone." Peter pointed out. "I assume you've already been looking at traffic cameras in the area? Whatever the vehicle is it must be large and riding low."

"You'd be surprised how many vehicles fit that description in the city."

"Too many to track." Peter sighed.

"Pretty much, however we're still working on it."

"Not in time to for it to help find Neal."

"With you already rescued, and Alistair not going anywhere anytime soon we haven't been able to devote around the clock resources to such a weak lead." Walsh admitted.

"I understand."

Coming down from the initial adrenaline rush of the initial bad news and still feeling the effects of the pain killers Peter spent the rest of the drive focusing on just staying awake. Getting to the Federal Building Peter found that the long elevator ride didn't effect him as much as it had at the hospital. He reasoned that it was mostly because he already had a knot in his stomach that simply couldn't get any tighter. Stepping off the elevator Peter was surprised to find himself on the floor that held the Violent Crimes offices rather than his own familiar office even though it made sense once he thought about it.

Hughes had been called, but had relinquished lead on the case to the SAC of Violent Crimes in case the investigation connected to Alistair. Jones had shown up as well despite being on the day surveillance rotation and still nursing his severely bruised sternum from the gun shot. The same kidnapping team was on hand that had been there several days earlier for Peter, but without contact or demands they were mostly useless. With nothing solid to go on the assembled team brainstormed idea in circles in a desperate attempt to come up with something to give them a direction to start in. They had started with trying to see if any large safes had ended up stolen, but if they had it hadn't been reported to authorities which wasn't a surprise. Their leads and idea had just gotten weaker from there.

After nearly two hours of getting nowhere Peter excused himself from the conference room to try and clear his head. The glass door to Walsh's office next door was open and Peter wandered in to go stand by the window and look out over the dark city. Neal had been missing for nearly four hours and although there was no way of knowing what their deadline was to find him Peter couldn't help but feel like it was drawing close fast. Taking out his phone he scanned through the photos taken at Neal's apartment that Diana had sent him. He'd already looked through several times, but the lack of sleep was hurting his ability to make connections. Staring at the blood stain Peter's stomach churned as he recalled Alistair's words to him.

'Caffrey will be...what? The fourth CI you've failed to protect?'

Worrying that Alistair was going to end up right Peter found himself just staring at the blood stain unable to decide on a good course of action. He only managed to pull his eyes away from the gore when Walsh walked into the office and joined him by the window. Walsh slipped his hands into his pockets the way Neal often did and looked down at the phone in Peter's hands.

"I know it looks like a lot of blood, but that would have come from a relatively minor injury." Walsh assured. "There was no splatter anywhere, that's a transferred smear off a hand. Probably not an injury to the hand itself from the amount and distribution, more likely he held his palm up to a facial wound after being struck hard enough to be sent to the floor. The mark was left when he used his hands to get back up again."

"You're good at this."

"I've seen a lot of blood in my time here." Walsh explained. "I used to handle the all the really gruesome organized crime cases up here, I recently shifted more towards armed bank robbery to cut down on the amount of red that I see."

"Understandable." Peter nodded still staring at the blood. "I doubt dealing with the blood gets any easier."

"Actually it was the exact opposite that made me switch paths." Walsh replied with a hollow tone as he remembered ghost of the past. "I walked in on an absolute slaughter, a family of six dead in a retaliation for a drive by in connection to a mafia turf war. I accidentally stepped in a congealing puddle of blood and my *first* thought was 'damn, I hope that didn't splash, I really like these shoes and blood is a nightmare to get out of suede'. Not exactly a compassionate thought."

"You have to distance yourself in this job at times or it will drive you mad."

"True, I just never thought I'd stray quite that far." Walsh forced a sad smile. "In any case, I don't think they were really trying to hurt Caffrey, most likely just a warning to make him a little more cooperative. Clearly they want him to do something for them or they would have either killed him on the spot or made demands of us by now."

"They don't want anything from us, I know that, but once they get what they want from him they won't have a reason not to kill him." Peter noted as he studied the blood. Trying to get a different view of the bloody mark Peter turned the phone over in his hands to flip it upside down. Peter snarled angrily at the phone as the picture automatically readjusted itself to be upright again. "Neal's athletic, even after getting knocked down I can't imagine him slipping like this while trying to get up."

"Do you think the pattern isn't accidental? It looks vaguely like a seven."

"Or an 'L'."

"Well the Scapine family is involved so an 'L' would point toward Lassard, except for the fact that there aren't any Lassards left. The blood line of the Lassards was fairly small to start with and after the raid they were all either dead or in prison." Walsh pointed out. "The head of the family Anthony Lassard died in prison, he never married."

"That doesn't mean he didn't have any children."

"You think some bastard spawn of Lassard is enacting a ten year old grudge? What would any of that have to do with Caffrey?"

"I don't know. We need a starting place and this is the only one I can think of right now."

"I will admit it is better than the nothing we have so far."

"We need to find out if any males in their late twenties to mid thirties visited Lassard on a regular basis in prison."

"You're kidding, right?" Walsh asked seriously.

"If he had a son he'd be in that age range."

"Peter…Anthony Lassard died eight years ago, it is three o'clock in the morning, even if we could wake up a Judge that was willing to sign a warrant for the release of that kind of information base solely off a bloody hand print, those records are on a hand written sign in sheet that is currently stuffed in a box somewhere in a giant warehouse like the goddamn arc of the covenant at the end of an Indian Jones movie."

Peter took a breath for an angry retort when he realized that Walsh was just pointing out the truth. Putting his phone away Peter closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to figure out how he could best use the time and resources that he had. With his eyes closed he suddenly became aware of the pain starting to needle up through his feet as the narcotics wore off. Part him still felt like at any moment he was going to wake up in a cold sweat and find that the entire past few hours had just been a vivid nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Peter." Walsh apologized. "I hate that Caffrey got taken on my watch, I only met him briefly, but I liked him. I also appreciated that he made sure no one got hurt during those bank jobs."

"The entire FBI knows it was him, don't they?" Peter sighed.

"We're not stupid." Walsh smiled. "Don't worry, we're not going after him for it."

"That's the least of my worries right now."

Walsh nodded solemnly. Peter was still trying to think of what to do next when David from legal tapped on the open door of the office. Peter waved him closer. David wordlessly handed Peter a document about twenty pages long bound together in a thin plastic binder. Peter flipped through to the last page and glanced at Hughes's signature and the blank spaces left for Alistair's signature and a Witness before he and thanked David for the document. David's services were the favor Peter had called in when he'd first learned of Neal's disappearance. The kind of deal Alistair wanted wasn't something that could be covered with a standard Federal template. Peter had hoped that they would have a better solution by the time the complicated legal document was written up, but they were no closer to finding Neal now than they were when his anklet was first cut. Walsh looked at the document in Peter's hands and shook his head sadly.

"You know the chances that Alistair knows anything useful to help Caffrey are extremely slim to none."

"Neal's chances are already so close to none that anything is better than nothing."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-nine

"Agent Burke, this is a pleasant surprise…although I'm fairly certain that visiting hours ended hours ago."

With the head of the bed up Alistair hadn't been sleeping despite the late hour and smiled brightly at Peter. In less than no mood to deal with Alistair's wise ass attitude Peter walked up to his bedside and wordlessly dropped the deal from legal into his lap. Before Alistair had a chance to pick up the document Peter reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pen that he tossed down onto the bed as well. Not bothering to hide his disdain Peter put his hands on his hips as best he could with the brace and glared down expectantly at Alistair.

"What's this?" Alistair asked innocently.

"You know exactly what it is." Peter snarled. "Read it. Sign it."

Lifting a curious eyebrow Alistair picked up the lengthy deal and started to idly leaf through it. Obviously not having actually read a single word of it Alistair put it back down as if insulted by it. He took a breath to say something but then suddenly winced in pain, it was actually the first Peter had seen Alistair display any pain despite the multiple gun shot wounds he had suffered. Alistair reached for the cord that was on top of his bedsheets and pressed the button on it causing the pump on the stand next to his bed to spring to life and dispense medication into the IV that was dripping fluids int Alistair's blood.

Peter was strongly tempted to reach over and yank the merciful morphine line out of Alistair's arm, but he restrained himself. Quickly feeling the effects of the powerful opioid Alistair relaxed and took a deep breath before grinning at Peter. Peter found himself needing to take a breath himself to keep himself from forcibly removing the smile off Alistair's pale face.

"I take it that despite your best efforts they still got Caffrey?" Alistair asked conversationally. "Have they sent you any bloody body parts yet? You might want to let someone else open your mail for the next few months. There are some images you just can never get out of your head, not to mention the smell."

"Alistair…"

"Have you ever considered the fact that you might not be a very good Agent?" Alistair interrupted. "I really think you need to consider a line of work that's not quite so 'life and death', at the very least it's time to stay out of the field…not that you might have a choice. How's your frostbite? You looked like you were limping fairly badly when you came in here."

"Alistair," Peter started again ignoring Alistair's jabbing "I'm offering you an exceedingly good deal, the least you can do is read it."

"I'm not considering anything without my lawyer present."

"Then you'd better get him here in five minutes because this deal is only good for the next ten."

"Working under a bit of a deadline, are you?" Alistair chuckled. "How long have they had Caffrey? If half of the stories I've heard about these guys are true if they've had him for more than an hour he's already delusional with pain and probably past saving by now anyway."

"Let this deal slip through your fingers and you're going to be the one past saving." Peter replied calmly despite his quickly rising temper.

"My lawyer says I have an amazingly strong case."

"He's a lawyer, it's his job to make you think you can win." Peter pointed out. "However he's not the one who is going to end up murdered in Federal Prison when more evidence against you surfaces."

"I think you mean 'if' more evidence surfaces."

"I didn't."

Alistair glanced back down at the paper in his lap but he didn't make a move to pick it up again. He clicked the button that controlled the morphine drip, but nothing happened this time since the device locked out for thirty minutes to keep the patient from over dosing themselves. The fact that Alistair felt he needed more of the drug made Peter feel that he was at least somewhat nervous about additional evidence. Peter knew there was a good chance that he was wasting his time here, but without any other leads on Neal he had to at least try this route even if it failed. Sensing Alistair was at least considering the possibility of prosecution Peter switched tactics to prey on Alistair's need for control.

"Of course the deal is null and void if you don't know who played you into doing their dirty work for them. The deal hinges on you actually being able to help find Neal and I'm starting to doubt you know anything."

"I know plenty, I just don't need your deal." Alistair declared loftily. "I don't need the FBI."

"Are you sure? Seems to me that you've been a pawn in all of this, a dispensable piece. I think you could use all the help you can get right now."

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Agent Burke, you ruined my life!" Alistair snarled having quickly lost his temper at the suggestion of being used. "I am not going to lift a finger to help you and I don't want *anything* from you or the FBI!"

"Fine." Peter picked up the binder off Alistair's bed. "Have it your way."

Staying in the room Peter walked over to the door way where Agent Walsh was standing guard with his back to the pair. Walsh had given him a ride to the hospital, Diana stay behind at the office in case they thought of something to find Neal or if contact was made. Peter also assumed that Alistair would have done some research before the kidnapping and be able to recognize Diana. Walsh was more than happy to participate in his 'plan B'. Walsh had pretended to take over for Agent on duty a few minutes before Peter had confronted Alistair. The other Agent was standing by outside of Alistair's sight.

"Agent?"

"Yes, Sir?" Walsh replied turning to face him.

"You can go home." Peter said. "Sounds like your charge is no longer interested in FBI protection."

"That's what I heard too." Walsh agreed.

"You can't do that!" Alistair protested.

"Sue me." Peter suggested icily. "Assuming you live long enough to file."

"You're bluffing." Alistair said with an obvious edge of panic. "You're not going to leave me here alone to get murdered. That's not who you are, Agent Burke."

"Maybe someone changed who I am recently." Peter said darkly. "We all have our limits."

Peter didn't give Alistair a chance to reply, he was starting to have real trouble focusing and he didn't want to show any weakness at this particular moment. He pushed past Walsh and made a gesture for him to follow him so that Alistair was left alone with his thoughts. The second they were out of sight Walsh slipped his hand up under Peter's arm to help keep him on his feet and guided him to a spot ten feet down the hall where he could lean against the wall to rest for a moment. The other Agent officially guarding Alistair kept back, but he stayed alert in case he needed to help as well. Peter wanted to sit down, but he doubted that Alistair was going to wait long before calling him back. Peter had been doing his best to breath normally while he was with Alistair, but he was panting now.

"Peter?" Alistair called. "Peter!"

"You got this?" Wash asked quietly.

Peter nodded but he still needed Walsh's help to pull him away from the wall. Feeling like he was walking across broken glass Peter made his way back to Alistair's room. Alistair was gulping for air in the midst of a panic attack as tears traced down his face. Considering how emotionally unstable he was Peter was amazed that he had been any use whatsoever to the men behind this highly coordinated attack. It also fueled his initial fear that Alistair didn't know enough about his handlers to be of any use. For the first time Peter actually managed to briefly feel sorry for Alistair, he'd gone from school yard bully to frightened lonely child in a matter of seconds. During Peter's last visit when Alistair had reached this point of panic he had become willing to try and cooperate somewhat so Peter hoped that he was similarly willing now.

"Where is Neal?" Peter demanded.

"I…I don't know." Alistair admitted.

"What do you know?" Peter pressed. "Who has him?"

Alistair flinched away from Peter's harsh tone and sought out the morphine button once again even though the machine was still locked out.

"You don't have a name." Peter growled. "You don't have anything."

"They came to me." Alistair explained, his panic making him lose his caution. "They arranged everything."

"How did they find you?"

Alistair shook his head, knowing Peter would kill him if he knew the truth of the assassin he had been looking to hire.

"What did they want?" Peter tried when it was clear his last question wasn't going to be answered.

"The White Rabbit."

"What?"

"A painting, Lassard family heirloom stolen by the Scapines years ago. I…I didn't know anything about it…it was stolen after the FBI raid…but…I…"

"You lied."

"I gave them a very good educated guess as to where it would be if they Scapine still had it." Alistair corrected.

"And that was enough for them?" Peter asked skeptically.

Alistair nodded.

"This doesn't make any sense." Peter growled to himself, frustrated by the fact that none of this information was actually useful and Neal was running out of time.

"Peter…don't let them get me. Please."

Sent into a sudden blind rage by Alistair's pleading tone Peter stepped forward to attack without thinking. Walsh had been right at the door and rushed inside to put himself between Alistair and Peter, he didn't want to physically restrain a fellow Agent, but he was clearly prepared to do so if necessary. Peter gave serious consideration to shoving Walsh out of his way, however he managed to take deep breath and a step back with his hands up slightly in surrender. Walsh kept a nervous eye on Peter, still on guard for him to surge towards Alistair again.

"It has to be a Lassard. No one else would know or care about that painting."

"Okay." Walsh agreed carefully. "Let's get out of here, and go work that angle."

Peter nodded even though they were already looking into the idea that Lassard had a son back at the office, unfortunately such a weak lead could take days or even weeks to even find a name let alone the person himself. Peter looked past Walsh at Alistair who was shaking uncontrollably looking close to passing out. Alistair's wild mood swings from sadistically twisting the knife to begging for help was a clear sign of Alistair's deep mental illness, but the fact that he could probably genuinely plead insanity to his recent crimes didn't help Peter not want to kill him for the damage he'd done.

Stepping out of Alistair's room Peter felt a nagging tug at the edges of his consciousness as the effects of sleep deprivation ate away at his already taxed system. It was close to five am and they were no closer to finding Neal than they had been at midnight. Spotting a small kitchen near the nurses station Peter went directly to the coffee. Quickly downing a paper cup of the thick black coffee he went straight for a second one before offering Walsh some. Walsh nodded and Peter was about to pour him a cup when his phone started ringing. Putting the coffee pot down Peter pulled out his phone and read the number that came up before showing it to Walsh.

"Who is that?" Walsh asked. "Can't be our kidnappers…can it?"

"Call it in and get a trace started on the phone's GPS just in case."

"I do love it when criminals make stupid mistakes." Walsh smiled as he pulled out his own phone. "You wouldn't believe how often bank robbers sign their full names on their demand notes."

Peter managed a quick smile as well. Neal had always signed his 'work', but never in any kind of obvious or even incriminating way, he left just enough of a mark behind to taunt. With the strong coffee and the prospect of having a lead on Neal had Peter wide awake again as he answered the call.

"Agent Burke."

"Peter? Peter, it's me, it's Neal." A heavily digitally distorted panicked voice squawked. "I don't know how to turn the voice modulator off on this thing. I'm in trouble, I…"

"What's your CI number?" Peter interrupted, even through the distortion nothing about the voice felt right.

"Peter, I don…"

"Your number, right now."

"I didn't have you fooled for a second, did I?" The electronic voice chuckled.

"No."

"It was worth a shot."

"Who is this?" Peter demanded despite knowing he wouldn't get an answer it was still protocol to ask.

"Just a concerned citizen. There is about to be a blood bath, an all out war. Come down to the docks. Bring back up, lots of it."

"Neal…"

"Don't worry about your boy, Agent Burke, I'll keep him safe."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

"This doesn't look good." Walsh mutter.

"Where the hell is SWAT?" Peter growled in frustration.

"They are still at least ten minutes out, maybe fifteen."

"I hate just sitting here."

"Do you think Caffrey is in there?"

"It makes almost no sense that he would be."

"I agree, this has to be a trap of some sort." Walsh nodded. "No way these guys were too dumb not to use a burner phone with the GPS ripped out."

"They want us here."

"And here we are."

Peter agreed that they were probably doing exactly what the caller wanted, but they didn't have any other choice. Sitting in Walsh's car Peter stared intently at the large warehouse from their place in the shadow of a row of shipping containers. The moon was mostly covered in clouds but the powerful mercury vapor lamps set up around the facility cast a cold light on the disturbingly tranquil scene. Peter had called back into the office as soon as he'd hung up, Hughes, Diana and Jones quickly went into organizing back up in the form of the highly trained SWAT force. Being at the hospital Peter and Walsh had been closer than the response team that was currently suited up and on the way so they had carefully approached the building through the maze of shipping containers that surrounded it on the North side to scout it out as best they could. The way the building was set up there was no good way to get close without risk getting spotted so they were forced to wait.

They had only arrived a few minutes ago, but sitting around waiting was making it feel like they had wasted hours. Peter shifted in his seat and reminded himself that walking into a hornet's nest on his own was not an option, at least not on that wouldn't end up likely getting himself, Walsh and Neal all killed. Having no idea what they'd be walking in on they had been ordered to wait on SWAT to arrive and breach the building. There were currently six armed Port Authority officers slowly taking up positions to surround the structure but they had been also been instructed to stay in position and wait for SWAT to assess the situation.

Unlike the relatively small abandoned structure that Neal had found him in this one had eight full sized loading docks and took up as much space as a small strip mall. The surrounding area was a large maze of shipping containers stacked on top of one another. The building wasn't technically abandoned but it had been shut down for remodeling that hadn't started yet. All in all it was a peaceful scene and if it wasn't for the fact that there were over a dozen high priced cars parked haphazardly outside the receiving area Peter would have already suggested to Walsh that they find a way to check it out themselves. However the fancy cars that had no business being in this industrial part of down in the pre-dawn hours gave the Agents the impression that they'd find themselves sorely out numbered if caught.

Glancing at the clock on Walsh's car dash told Peter it was about fifteen minutes before six am. The sun would be rising soon which would actually be a tactical advantage, however if Neal was in the warehouse every second they wasted doing nothing increased his risk of ending up injured or killed. Speed was essential, but at the same time it had to be well coordinated, just swarming the area with a storm of authorities could quickly escalate things to either a true hostage situation or even a deadly fire fight. If SWAT couldn't quickly and quietly take control of the situation Neal would be just as likely to be shot by SWAT as by the men who actually took him in the ensuing chaos. Becoming increasingly concerned and impatient Peter started getting noticeably restless as doing nothing became increasingly difficult.

"This would usually be the part in the movie when the two of us ignore the rules and charge in, guns blazing," Walsh broke the silence to ease the tension "we take out fifteen to twenty henchmen with a single clip each in a matter of minutes, while simultaneously avoiding the hailstorm of bullets that they fire at us, before we engage in our final show down with the big boss who takes considerably more effort to kill. Sound like a plan?"

"Not a good one. I couldn't even keep a hold of a cup of coffee the other day, I fire a weapon in my condition and I'm more likely to shoot you or myself than an actual target." Peter admitted ruefully. "Although thank you for the use of your spare side arm. I do feel better having it, at least this way I can bluff."

"No problem, just promise me you won't shoot me with it."

"This would be the part in the movie where the audience would start to suspect that you're dirty and that I'm going to have to shoot you later in a blaze of irony."

"I like that." Walsh chuckled. "Of course if I was a bad guy why would I give you a loaded weapon?"

"Lazy script writing?" Peter suggested.

Walsh chuckled again and Peter managed a brief tight lipped smile. As seemingly inappropriate as it was Peter appreciated the brief moment of levity that Walsh had provided. In these 'wait and see' situations the hardest part was keeping yourself from doing something stupid and with Neal still unaccounted for Peter was already on the edge of doing exactly that. He suspected that Walsh had sensed that and had used the humor to diffuse the situation. Still chomping at the bit to take some sort of action Peter reached for the hand held radio in Walsh's car to touch base with SWAT, they should be arriving shortly. Having forgotten his injury Peter fumbled with the radio due to the unwieldy brace.

"I got it." Walsh reached over and took the receiver.

Holding down the button to talk Walsh was distracted by the hurried arrival of half a dozen black SUVs to the scene with their headlights off. At first Peter had thought back up had arrived, Walsh had the same thought as he used the secure radio channel to try and contact the new arrival. Before there was any response the doors on the SUVs opened and armed men poured out. Peter's moment of relief was quickly replaced by a cold wash of adrenaline as Walsh swore violently. Far from being trained Federal Agents these were a rag tag group of very angry men, two of which Peter instantly recognized as being part of the Scapine family. Just as the group rushed into the warehouse the radio came to life with SWAT replied asking for a situation report and announcing that they were still about five minutes from arriving.

"Eighteen new hostiles, they are loaded for bear and are heading into…"

Walsh was cut off as a barrage of gun fire erupted from within the structure.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" Walsh barked into the radio. "Port lock this place down! SWAT get here now!"

Peter had placed the sidearm that Walsh had offered him on the dash he grabbing it with his left hand as he threw the car door open. Getting to his feet Peter was forced to pause for a moment as a wash of dizziness brought on by the combination of standing and his pounding heart rate nearly took him off his feet.

"Peter, no, stay in the car." Walsh ordered as he got out of the car as well, weapon in hand.

"You are not going alone." Peter said firmly as the dizziness passed. "I'm coming with you as another set of eyes if nothing else."

With no time to argue Walsh just nodded and focused on the safest way to approach the battle that had broken out inside. Staying low the pair made their way towards the raging fire fight. Radio in hand Walsh told the incoming back up that they were heading around the West side of the building to see if they could get a better idea of the situation inside. Hearing the tell tale rapid fire of a semi automatic weapon Peter reached over and yanked Walsh to the ground and got down as well as a spray of bullets ripped through the thin metal receiving dock doors and slammed into the cars parked in the front lot.

"Your mystery caller wasn't kidding about the war." Walsh growled.

Peter agreed and prayed that the caller had been just as serious about keeping Neal safe. Walsh helped Peter back to his feet after getting to his own and they moved quickly to the far side of the building for cover, checking carefully around the corner to ensure that it was clear. The building shadow made it difficult to see as the sun still had yet to rise, but they quickly found that it didn't matter. All of the windows in the building were all up near the roof twenty feet up so even if they hadn't been painted gray they were still worthless for getting eyes on what was happening inside. Peter motioned to Walsh to point out the side entry door twenty yards away. Running to the door Walsh checked it and unsurprisingly found it locked.

Walsh stepped to the far side of the door to get a good angle to fire at the lock. Before Peter could circle around behind him the door flew open pushing Walsh back. A man in his late twenties stumbled through the door with a hand gun held loosely in one hand and his other hand pressed firmly against his stomach. Peter raised his weapon somewhat awkwardly with his left hand, but at this range he certainly wasn't going to miss even if the force of the shot knocked the gun from his weakened grip.

"FBI!" Peter barked. "Drop the weapon, drop it now!"

Looking stunned the young man automatically dropped his gun at the commanding order. Walsh stepped from behind the door with his own weapon trained on the man as he kicked the gun away. Peter was about to demand he step forward and kneel down so that they could close the door when the man collapsed to the ground. On his back the man looked up at Peter with a confused expression as blood suddenly poured out from his lips. A quick glance down at the hand he was holding over his stomach showed that he'd already taken at least one bullet.

Walsh reached down grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him out of the way of the exposed entrance way of the open door. The amount of gun fire was rapidly reducing from a combination of a rising body count and a falling amount of ammo, however a stray shot in their direction was still a serious danger. With the man out of the way the door automatically started to swing closed. Keeping to the side of the doorway Peter placed his foot in the way of the metal door to ensure that they wouldn't be locked out. Kneeling next to the injured man Walsh pressed his fingers against his throat and then swore.

"There goes the uneasy truce." Walsh sighed.

"Who is that?"

"Nick Colleto's nephew."

Peter swore as well. The Colleto family and the Scapine family had unofficially divided up the city after the fall of the Lassards and had mostly stayed out of one another's way ever since. Peter had already recognized two Scapine in the group of men who had stormed in. The Scapine and Colletos firing blindly at one another was going to lead to more violence in retaliation no matter who had started it. Organized crime had changed dramatically since the days of the 'Godfather' type mafias, but the two family would likely return to old traditions and tear each other apart after tonight. Walsh's radio squawked to life as SWAT finally arrived. It was almost too little too late as the gun fire inside had been reduced to sporadic bursts. Peter got down low and carefully opened the door to scan the scene.

With very little in the way of cover in the large warehouse the two sides seemed to have just opened fire on one another in a chaotic open battle. The concrete floor was streaked with blood and bodies just like the mysterious caller had promised. There was a large safe off in the center of the floor with crates and suitcases laid out in front of it that seemed to be where the few who remained standing were hold up. Peter relayed the information to Walsh who in turned radioed the situation to SWAT.

The remaining few uninjured participates gave in with only a few additional shots fired when the aggressive and well armored SWAT team surrounded and swarmed in on the scene. Keeping his angle tight to avoid getting hit by any additional fire Peter watched the tactical team secure the area with a systematic sweep. As much as he knew he had to keep a sharp eye out Peter's attention was mostly concentrated on one victim. Someone had been shot and fallen backwards over a large plastic wrapped rectangle of money near the safe. Laying in a contorted heap the only thing Peter could see was the legs of a man in a well tailored pair of dark pants and set of high gloss shoes. Most of the other men in the attack were wearing more casual dress. Peter tried to remember what color Neal's pants were the last time he saw him but couldn't even remember if they were light or dark.

Peter wanted to rush in, but until SWAT declared the area secure stepping into the warehouse would just be asking to be shot. The minutes right after a situation seemed to be under control was a dangerous time for friendly fire. With everyone's adrenaline still running on high mistakes were easy to make when assessing a threat. With his heart pounding Peter watched two of the SWAT members step over to the body sprawled out on the wrapped money, one kept his weapon trained on down man while the other quickly checked for a pulse. The man checking for signs of life shook his head and the pair went off to help detain the living.

It seemed to take hours before SWAT declared the scene secure, but in truth they had the site clear in a record six minutes. Paramedics were already in route for the injured and the Port Authority moved in now to help with arrests and coordination of the crime scene that was in their jurisdictional territory. Sirens in the distance came wailing closer as emergency response teams came in to help with the aftermath of the brief battle. From his vantage point Peter estimated that there were at least fifteen dead with several more injured and only a small handful that lived unscathed to be arrested on the scene. However he quickly brought his eyes back to the only one that looked like it might be Neal.

Walsh alerted the team leader that he and Peter were entering from the West and that they had another victim just out side. Peter handed over the borrowed weapon back to Walsh for safe keeping, as the adrenaline of the fight wore off and was replaced by a cold dread. With the fight over the pain in his hands and feet were making itself known again. Walsh walked silently next to Peter as he approached the downed figure. Peter stopped ten feet away, having to take a deep breath to find the courage to step up to the motionless man. No one on the SWAT team would know Neal, he would just be another body to them. Continuing to just stare at the legs of the prone figure Peter swallowed hard against his suddenly dry throat.

"Do you want me to go look first?" Walsh offered sympathetically.

"No." Peter shook his head slightly.

Despite telling himself that he needed to be the first one to identify his friend Peter still needed another moment before he was able to step forward. Walking around to look at the man's face Peter let out an audible sigh of relief at the sight of the man's bright copper colored hair. The brief moment of relief was replaced by the realization that Neal still might be among the dead or a hostage of whoever started all of this. Peter looked around at the massacre that surrounded him finding himself oddly numb to all of the blood spilt. As much as he hated to admit it he didn't care about any of the blood as long as none of it belonged to his friend.

No one in view came close to Neal's description. Walsh stepped away for a moment to get an update from the team leader on the tactical unit. Peter knew he should double checking the bodies around him, but feeling a little shell shocked Peter found his attention drawn to the large safe. The myriad of tools laid out along with the discarded broken drill bits and metal shavings pointed towards an attempt on the safe. The fact that there were valuables stacked up outside of it suggested that they had been successful. Walsh made a quick sweep of the immediate area before returning to where Peter was still studying the large steel box.

"They found two more dead out back, but neither one is Caffrey." Walsh assured. "He's not here. Our mystery caller must have taken him with him when they cleared out of here before everyone arrived to this slaughter."

"…'I'll keep him safe'." Peter whispered to himself.

"Peter?"

Peter didn't respond to the concern in Walsh's voice. The chaos of the scene around him blurred into the background as he continued to stare at the imposing looking safe. With pain and fatigue catching up with him Peter stepped forward almost in a trance. He put his hand against the cold steel for a moment before pressing his ear against it. Walsh furrowed his brow and watched as Peter closed his eyes and tapped on the metal with the hard plastic on his wrist brace. Walsh was just about to beckon over a paramedic to come look at his temporary partner when Peter reached over to the dial with his left hand and spun a combination into it that caused the lock to audibly click as it unlocked.

"How did you do that?" Walsh asked amazed. "It's basically impossible to hear a combination on a safe like this."

"I wasn't listening to the lock." Peter turned the handle carefully and cracked open the heavy door. "I was listening to Neal."

Peter pulled the heavy safe door open and Neal stumbled out with a panicked gasp as he hit the fresh air. Peter was able to catch Neal around the waist before he collapsed and helped ease him down to sit on the floor. Kneeling down with him Peter had to turn slightly as sit as well as the burning from his damaged shins flared angrily. Shaking uncontrollably Neal reached out and gripped down on Peter's arm to help steady himself as he panted heavily as he struggled to catch his breath.

A paramedic rushed over with an oxygen tank with a small clear face mask attached to it by a length of tubing. Neal cried out sharply in terror and jerked away when the medic tried to hastily placed the mask over his face. Sweat and blood was rolling off his unnatural pale skin and his eyes hadn't managed to focus yet as the hypoxia made him delusional. Pitching forward Neal leaned his forehead against Peter's chest as he dry heaved several times. Peter put his arm around Neal's heaving shoulder blades in an attempt to help him calm down.

"41, 73…25,41, 73…25" Neal panted mindlessly "41…73"

"Neal, stop." Peter said gently. "Just breathe. You're sa…out."

Peter had been about to say 'safe' but had thought better of it at the last second. With Neal still curled up against his chest his quick shallow breathing was making his condition worse as he continued to fight the panic from the near asphyxiation. Although he had been reduced to a hoarse whisper he was still repeating the three numbers that had help save his life in an endless loop. Peter reached over and took the oxygen mask from the paramedic with his left hand before using his teeth to open the velco off the restrictive brace to free his right hand. Carding his broken hand into Neal's hair he guided him to sit back and look at him.

"Neal, focus."

Although probably hallucinating from the high level of carbon dioxide and low oxygen in his blood Neal gave Peter as much of his attention as he could manage.

"I need you to breathe into this. Okay?"

Neal looked at the medical device in Peter's hand and furrowed his brow in confusion but he nodded and peacefully allowed Peter to hold the mask over his face despite the claustrophobia it induced. Neal reached up and put his hand over Peter's to hold the mask closer as he finally understood what was happening. Calming considerably Neal closed his eyes and took a few deeps breaths of the high oxygen flow. Neal started to come around as the ghostly blue tint to his lips was replaced by a healthy pink. Opening his eyes again he looked at Peter and smiled brightly as though he was just realizing who he was. He was still shaking but he'd lost the disoriented look in his eyes.

"No more small spaces for a while." Neal requested only half joking.

"Agreed."

Neal chuckled weakly through the plastic mask. He took a few more breaths before pulling Peter's hand and the mask away. He leaned forward and rested his head against Peter's chest again before wrapping his arms around him in a grateful hug. Exhausted Peter rested his chin on Neal's shoulder and closed his eyes. He knew there was more work to be done, but right now he didn't care, they would deal with all of that later. With the rush of the moment over the fact that he'd barely slept in twenty four hours weighed down heavily on Peter as he tried and failed to open his eyes again.

Walsh watched Neal and Peter with a feeling of victory despite the pools of blood that surrounded them. Glancing around at the corpses Walsh found himself still desensitized to the carnage and gore. He knew that tonight was just the opening shots in what was going to be all out war between the Colleto and Scapine families and he doubted that either one of them had actually fired first. Walsh's instinct was telling him the man who had brought the FBI here had purposefully lured the Colletos and Scapines as well. It was easy to ignite a battle between two sides that already hated one another, leaving the third party with less enemies to deal with when all was said and done.

Thinking about the bloodshed to come Walsh couldn't decide if he should move back into Organized Crime or talk to Peter about perhaps finding a place in White Collar. Lost in thought after what had been a stressful night Walsh jolted violently when someone accidentally dropped a heavy case. The noise from the case was instantly followed by a sharp cracking sound from the safe as the glass relocker finally gave way. Five thick metal bolts shot out from the edges of the open door that would have sealed the vault shut with deadly consequences if it had happened just a few minutes earlier.

"Whoa, that was clos…"

Walsh stopped as he noticed that neither Peter nor Neal had reacted at all to the noise. Sitting on the floor leaning against one another kept them upright but they were both fast asleep. Walsh smiled as Peter snored gently, finally giving in to fatigue now that his CI was safe. The paramedic that was still hovering looked down at the pair before giving Walsh a questioning look.

"They've had a long night."


	31. Chapter 31

Epilogue

"I'm going to miss you, Caffrey." Walsh sighed.

"I'll be right down stairs, you can come say 'hi' any time."

"Oh…uh…"

"Or did you actually mean you're going to miss your higher case solve rate?"

Walsh reached up and put his finger on his nose with a guilty smile.

"I see how it is." Neal said pretending to be hurt. "Although the help was the least I could do for you for taking me on while Peter was on medical leave."

"Peter's idea, not mine." Walsh chuckled. "Still not sure why you couldn't stay down in White Collar. Not that I'm complaining."

"I think he worried about Jones and Diana murdering me if they had to deal with me full time for four months."

"I never felt like I was 'dealing' with you. You're good at this and I think you enjoy it."

"Well, I was on my best behavior with you."

"Really?" Walsh raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Even during the Weston case?"

"Maybe not on that one." Neal admitted. "You're…uh…not going to tell Peter about that particular case are you?"

"No, I'm going to hold to it for when I need something from you later."

"That's fair."

"I'm just kidding." Walsh assured. "I don't think we owe each other anything at this point, however I will be sure to give you a call when I catch 'Victor Lassard'."

"I didn't think that was your case."

"It's going to be." Walsh clarified. "Organized Crime really wants me back, the Scapine and Colletos are still murdering each other every chance they get."

"Exactly what Lassard wants I'm sure."

"He's gone to ground for the moment, but as soon as the dust settles he's going to be looking to set himself up as the new Godfather. It really wasn't all that bad a strategy, build yourself up while your enemies tear each other down, but we'll be there to take him out before he gets too high."

"I gave Organized Crime sketches of everyone I could remember from that night."

"I saw them, very good work. If Victor is a true Lassard he must be Anthony's half brother or something, he's too old to be his son."

"He told me he promised his father that he'd get the painting before he died in prison, but I suppose he could have made all of that up."

"Anthony's father died in prison as well so his story of a promise could still be true. Personally I think Victor is most likely spawned from an indiscretion by the elder Lassard who has been in on the family business in the shadows until Alistair just happened along with an opportunity to really earn the family name. From what I've seen Victor is a very patient and calculating man, willing to play the long game to get what he wants. Good news is when it comes to the long game law enforcement has the upper hand, our mistakes don't add up the way his will and he already made a huge mistake regarding you and Peter."

"Leaving us alive?"

"Going after you two in the first place." Walsh correct. "Lassard may have cleared out some of his competition, but he's made himself a powerful enemy with the FBI in doing so. We'll catch him."

Neal nodded, but he wasn't feeling as confident about it as Walsh seemed to be. Like a shark Victor Lassard had struck out of the blue and had disappeared back into deep waters just as quickly. He had proven himself to be an apex predator and not someone to be taken lightly. This had not been his first attempt at criminal activity and the fact that he had enough confidence now to show himself gave Neal the impression that the FBI wasn't the threat to him that they'd like to think they were.

Thinking about Lassard Neal jerked slightly when Walsh's cell phone buzzed at him to let him know he had a text. It bothered Neal that he was still jumpy but ever since being locked in the safe he found himself uncharacteristically high strung. He was getting better, but not as quickly as he'd like. Of course he had refused any and all of the FBI's offers at professional counseling. Peter had been going therapy, but only because he had been mandated to if he wanted to get his gun back. Neal imagined those sessions mostly consisting of Peter staring silently at the therapist for the required forty-five minutes before getting up and saying 'thank you' before leaving.

"Peter's in his office, he'd like to see you." Walsh told Neal as he replied to the text. "I told him you'd be right down."

"Has he forgotten my number?"

"He just wanted to make sure we weren't working on something." Walsh chuckled at Neal's injured tone. "Officially I have three more hours with you before I need to hand you back to White Collar and we haven't closed the Garline case."

"I still say it's the girlfriend." Neal shrugged.

"I guess I'll have to look into that myself." Walsh held out his hand for Neal to shake. "It's been very interesting working with you, Neal."

"Likewise."

"Good luck with the rest of your sentence here, when it's over if White Collar doesn't offer you enough money for a proper consulting job come talk to Organized Crime...we have a bigger budget and we'd love to have you."

"I will keep that in mind."

"No you won't." Walsh chuckled.

"I've kinda had my fill of mafia blood baths." Neal admitted.

"I can't blame you there." Walsh nodded. "But do at least consider a place in White Collar when all is said and done."

"I don't know if they'd even offer."

"Of course they will, assuming you keep your criminal activities to a dull roar. You're one of us now." Walsh said confidently. "Don't let anyone, yourself included, tell you otherwise."

Neal nodded thoughtfully as he remembered back to when Alistair had first taken Peter and he'd been ordered home. At the time he'd very much felt like an outsider who would never get a chance to belong. However he had noticed a change in how the other Agent's generally interacted with him since the ordeal with Alistair. Neal still wasn't sure if an actual future with the FBI was something he even wanted, but it was nice to hear that it might actually be a viable option someday. Thanking Walsh again Neal headed out of the Violent Crimes office. Having dealing with mostly after the fact bank robberies Neal hadn't had to deal with anything too violent, but he knew that Walsh's case load was about to get a great deal bloodier now that he was transferring back into the organized crime side of things.

Coming to the elevator Neal hesitated as his heart rate increased slightly. He glanced over at the entrance to the stair well, the White Collar office was only four stories down. Shaking his head to clear it Neal pressed the button to call the elevator. Although he had been working with Walsh for the past four months, it had been closer to five months since Peter's kidnapping. Neal had needed some time to recover himself and had been granted a variation on medical leave initially as well. It had taken several weeks before he or Peter were ready and willing to work on their shared claustrophobia. Eventually they had decided that the only cure was to spending a few days together riding the service elevator at the Federal building. It had worked for the most part for them both, but Neal still felt a spike in his anxiety whenever he had to ride in the small space alone.

Peter's leave had lasted considerably longer. He had needed two surgeries for his frostbite, and in the end he had lost one toe and tip of his left ear. However the skin graft to his shin had been successful and he had narrowly escaped losing the leg. Peter had been frustrated by the amount of time recovery had taken. After the first month Neal had started to face needing to work with another Agent or spend the time waiting for Peter in prison. Neal hadn't known that it had been Peter's idea to ask Walsh, but it didn't surprise him. Peter had mentioned several times how Walsh had come through for him while they were dealing with Lassard.

Surviving the elevator ride Neal stepped out into the White Collar office. He had not been a stranger while he was working with Walsh on armed bank robbery cases and had frequently visited the office to stay in the loop. Peter had unofficially returned to the office at the beginning of the week, coming in for a few hours in the afternoon to catch up on what was happening and read open files. It was Friday today and if everything went according to plan he was going to be officially back to work on Monday. Neal wasn't really sure if Peter was truly ready or not, Neal had spent a good portion of his time at Peter's after work, but Peter was always more interested in talking about whatever case Walsh had than how he was doing. Neal noticed just a few days ago that he still flinched when he picked up something that was cold, but he didn't drop it like he used to.

Neal stepped into Peter's office and smiled at the sight of Peter happily doing paperwork. Actually medically sound or not Neal realized that Peter needed to be back in the field if he was ever going to truly get better. Peter looked from his desk and smiled as Neal approached. Despite the time that had passed Neal still wasn't used to the bright white patch under Peter's eye from the frostbite to his cheek or chunk missing from his ear. A plastic surgeon had offered to fix the damage but Peter had refused the additional surgeries that he felt were unnecessary. Neal sat down in the chair across from Peter and studied him for a moment.

"What?" Peter asked warily.

"Someone got their gun back today." Neal smiled knowingly. "I didn't think that was happening until Monday."

"The shrink signed off on it yesterday, and I was able to get into the range for my test this morning." Peter confirmed. "How did you know?"

"You're holding your shoulders back and you're sitting up straighter than usual. Clearly you're proud of something."

"I always have good posture." Peter replied, not believing Neal's observation skills.

"Fine, I can smell the gun powder on your jacket." Neal admitted. "Going into that closed in firing range is like stepping into a smoke shop."

"It's a great smell." Peter smiled.

Neal was encouraged by Peter's good mood even though there were still unanswered questions surrounding his kidnapping. Peter fished a file off the top of the pile on his desk and opened it. Neal knew that Peter was going to be chomping at the bit to dive into a case the second he got his field clearance back, but he had hoped that Peter had called him away from his last day with Walsh to talk about something else. Before Peter could try to get him interested in a new case on a Friday afternoon Neal brought up the subject that Peter had been actively avoiding for weeks.

"Peter…what happened with Alistair?"

Peter didn't reply, he just kept leaving though the file.

"No one will tell me." Neal continued. "I can't find anything on my own either. It looks like he just disappeared into WitSec again."

Realizing that Neal wasn't going to let it go Peter closed the file he'd opened. He stared at Neal for a moment before getting to his feet and walking over to close the glass office door. Neal hadn't liked the way Peter had been evasive about Alistair over the past few months and he liked Peter's silence now even less. Neal knew trials took time to be set up, particularly when the defendant was injured and the case complicated. However with the strength of the evidence that the FBI had against Alistair thanks to Lassard and the high profile nature of the case Neal felt he should have been dragged before a court by now. Peter sat back down and rubbed at the back of hand where the broken bone had once been.

"Peter, please don't tell me you made a deal with him."

"No." Peter shook his head. "I tried, but he wouldn't take it."

"So what happened?"

"Due to the nature of the case with organized crime involvement, a WitSec defendant, and overall safety concerns, the FBI requested a closed trial, which was granted. It ended last week."

"And?" Neal asked when Peter didn't continue.

"Alistair was found not guilty…for reasons of insanity."

"What?" Neal demanded angrily. "That is complete bul…"

"It's not a miscarriage of justice, Neal." Peter interrupted. "It is exactly how the case needed to go. Alistair is deeply mentally ill and he deserves treatment. It's not like he's just walking free, he will be institutionalized for the rest of his life."

Neal furrowed his brow at the almost too calm way Peter was handling this verdict. Even if Alistair was locked in a mental ward it wasn't the same as serving true time for his crimes. At first he feared that Peter had just accepted it due to his blind faith in the justice system. However the more he thought about it the more he realized that under the circumstances Alistair hadn't had much of a chance at a 'fair trial'. Any jury would be quick to sympathize with a torture victim like Peter, particularly after seeing video of Alistair taunting him and then forcibly rendering him unconscious when he'd tried to surface from the drugs. In cases where a defendant tried to plead insanity the trial would have shifted to proving mental incapacity. It would have been up to the judge to decide if a jury would deliberate that or if he was willing to make that decision on his own. The FBI certainly had its sway over judges and could easily tip a battle like that one way or another if motivated to do so.

"You pushed for this." Neal pieced together out loud. "The FBI could have thrown everything at Alistair in this trial with the video evidence they had. Once that surfaced no lawyer in this city would have touched Alistair, it wouldn't have taken many favors to arrange for Alistair to have some fresh over the bar public defense attorney. Not guilt by reasons of insanity are notoriously difficult cases to prove, you would have been a key witness for establishing his original PTSD."

"It was the least I could do for him."

"The least you could have done was 'nothing'," Neal smiled warmly "you didn't have to help him, you could have even ensured he'd be thrown in prison to be murdered."

"That's not who I am."

"No it isn't, and I'm glad to see that none of this has changed that."

"So am I."


End file.
